


the sweetest dream will never do

by whatwouldvoldydo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boys Over Flowers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Hogwarts is super elitist, Slow Burn, everybody is rich, like achingly slow, rich people, this is basically a reverse harem anime just with Harry Potter character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwouldvoldydo/pseuds/whatwouldvoldydo
Summary: Hogwarts Academy is the best school in England, anybody who is anybody goes there. The biggest names on the list? Anthony Goldstein. Ernie McMillan. Blaise Zabini. And Draco Malfoy, of course. The heirs, the big ones. In the middle of all the chaos is Hermione, although she never asked for it, just because the lost heir dragged her in.





	1. (Just Like) Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know any details, notice mistakes or just generally want to engage about this I guess, you can find me on tumblr under the same name (at your own risk)

In a cosy, private compartment at the end of the train heading to famed Hogwarts Academy sat Hermione Granger. While she was already seated, with her belongings sprawled out over the other seats, the platform was still bustling with people; students and their entourage that very nicely displayed the spread of families that sent their children to Hogwarts. There were quite a lot of young students, who were brought in by people they were obviously not related to; nannies and drivers and other people their families employed. There were aristocratic looking families, whose members regarded each other with a certain kind of trained and nurtured coolness that was void of emotion even towards the little ones. Hermione, despite her many bad experiences, pitied the children in those families, herself having grown up in an openly loving and affectionate family. It seemed horrible to grow up in that like, but maybe to some of them at least Hogwarts offered a familial replacement.

Gathering up the crowd with her eyes, she noted a group of admittedly attractive, but, as she sadly knew, equally annoying and despicable young men. They were surrounded by a mass of people, mostly girls gushing over them and younger kids trying to catch a glimpse of them. If it weren’t for the fact that the Hogwarts Express, as the train heading to the academy was called, left from a private platform, she knew there would be a whole hoard of reporters present too, trying to take the best picture of the heirs of Hogwarts returning for their last year in that very school. That was, as far as Hermione was considered, the fatal flaw, the hamartia really, of an ancient academy like Hogwarts. It was painfully elitist, as everybody who went there either was part of its very long history or was very influential or had a lot of money. The heirs, as they were called, belonged partly in “only” one, partly in two and, for the most despicable of them, in all three categories.

In her sweeping the platform, however, Hermione wasn’t trying to look at and psychoanalyse the student body of Hogwarts, but as actually looking for the rarest kind of academy attendants. Finally, she caught sight of a bunch of bright red tufts of hair standing out against the generally more muted colours. It filled her with a comfortable fuzziness to see that all gingers were hugging and crying and laughing loudly together. People showing genuine emotion, Hermione sarcastically thought to herself, how refreshing. Only the beginning of a Hogwarts school year would lead to emotion being rare. A knock on the door ripped her from her cynical observations and she promptly bid the person come in. It was a representative of Hogwarts Academy, who stood in the doorframe to her compartment and politely inquired if he could come in.

“Of course”, Hermione replied, hastily putting away her books and uniform that she had out of habits spread out over the rest of the compartment, seeing as she usually spent the ride to Hogwarts in comfortable silence in her private compartment. The elder gentleman took her gesture as the offer it was and stiffly sat down opposite of her, starting to speak as soon as she looked at him expectantly.

“First of all, Miss Granger, congratulations on your re-election as student body representative. I do have to say I am a bit biased towards you” – Hermione smiled at him graciously, taking the praise with a slightly awkward smile – “And, as you know, you are free to invite whomever you want to join you in this compartment”. At that he paused slightly, as if he was turning over the words he wanted to say to her, “However, it so happens that this year we have a rather special transfer student and I was wondering if you would mind terribly to share your compartment with that very student as they could profit from a bit of reclusion”.

“I wouldn’t mind at all”, she smiled gently, immediately giving in to the soft-spoken man opposite of her. “Thank you, Miss Granger”, he said, obviously relieved and then added, “Your help is greatly appreciated, I assure you”.

The Hogwarts representative bowed out of the compartment, a sign of respect that Hermione wasn’t entirely comfortable with as she wasn’t entirely sure she deserved it or was even close to deserving it. At the same time, though, her discomfort was overridden by a certain curiosity about the request. She was known to be quite private on her train rides and to enjoy the solitude. It was weird that they would willingly take that from her, even if the representative had been sent to politely ask her. However, all confusion was gone as soon as the door to her compartment reopened and the afore mentioned transfer student entered. She stood up to meet him, reached out her hand and with a polite smile introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Hermione Granger, student body representative”. The guy smiled back a startingly bright smile, shook her hand and answered, “Hi, I’m Harry”. It didn’t escape Hermione that he didn’t use his last name, as she sat back down, and Harry claimed the space opposite of her. She already knew his full name anyway. Harry James Potter. Since his re-appearance in the end of June she had seen his face on TV and in various articles so many times that she recognized his face immediately. As it were, Harry Potter was as well known in Britain as anybody could ever hope or fear to be. The big heir of the philanthropic department, the one with the most tragic of backstories, had returned to Hogwarts.

Ignoring the instant recoil, she felt at his role as an heir, Hermione decided to smile at him anyway. At first glance, he met every prejudice she found herself having regarding the Potter heir. A handsome, well-dressed young man with fashionably unruly hair, dreamy eyes and a fit figure from playing cricket and/or rugby. At second glance, however, his behaviour didn’t quite fit what she was used to from the other heirs. He didn’t seem like he had no care in the world and neither did he seem like he thought the whole world depended on him. And he certainly didn’t seem like everything he did, to the smallest movement of his finger was panned out and had been trained for years. Harry Potter, to Hermione’s shock, seemed to be perfectly normal.

While the Potter boy had stored his stuff in the compartment, the platform had emptied, and the train had started its long way to the academy, which was located in northern Scotland. Once his belongings were secured, or more accurately, randomly stuffed away, he sat down and awkwardly went through his hair a few times, obviously nervous.

“You know, who I am, don’t you?”, he inquired, sounding uncomfortable with the very reasonable assumption.

Hermione put down he book she had been reading in, gave him an understanding smile and declared, “I’m afraid everybody knows, who you are, Harry Potter”. A slightly miserable smile spread on his features after that and Hermione couldn’t help but feel for him.

“I guess you do have to stay informed about that stuff, huh?”, he wondered out loud, his voice clear and not as timid anymore. Seriously considering it, Hermione found that, no, it wasn’t actually part of her duties as student body representative to stay up to date with these things, but she rather only did it out of personal curiosity.

“Not exactly”, she conceited, “I just like to know, well, everything really. Especially in the medical world”.

“So, you’re a Griffin”, the Potter boy declared with a bright, relieved smile. She supposed she understood his relief to some extent, as being new to Hogwarts as an heir of all people had to be difficult. And with her being part of the philanthropic track, he at least knew one person in his Hogwarts “house”. On the other hand, she chose to ignore Harry’s use of the silly label the “Golden Griffins” had given themselves, much like the silver snakes of the politico-economical track and so on.

After that exchange, they shared the compartment in comfortable silence for some time, the Potter boy studying some folder and texting on his phone, her sitting and reading a medical magazine that talked about some of the recent developments in the industry. After about an hour, Harry harrumphed, making her look up from her magazine and acknowledge that she had heard him.

“Are you going to show ma around school or will I be left to my own devices?”, he asked, the last words lingering on to leave the possibility for other options. There was a certain humorous bite to his words that hadn’t been there before and that made Hermione think he was the kind of person who got along with everybody and quickly at that. Seeing as she considered it her duty to help transfer students find their way in the beginning, Hermione was tempted to immediately say yes. But on the other hand, Harry Potter wasn’t your everyday transfer student; he was the returned heir. And although she would obviously help him with his schedule and organizational things, Hermione couldn’t help the feeling that she wanted to push him towards his friends as quickly as possible, before she could ever get dragged into the drama that always surrounded the heirs.

Trying to be gentle at his hopeful question and still clearly show her position she finally answered, “You can of course come to me with any problem and I will help you with your schedule, but the easiest way of finding your way around the academy is surely tagging along with your friends”.

“Right”, Harry smiled, not looking off-put, but rather extremely fond, “I have friends”. Hermione chuckled at that, although she could for the life of her not understand how he could think of those people so fondly.

She went back to reading her magazine, hiding the displeased expression that had somehow covered her face at her own mention of the Potter boy’s friends. Like anybody at Hogwarts really, she was well aware of Harry’s story. She knew that he had been friends with the other big heirs, when his parents were still alive and only stopped spending time with them, when he moved to live with relatives. That was, as far as she knew, when he was somewhere in the beginning of his school career. Hermione supposed that even Draco Malfoy, the greatest prick known to mankind, couldn’t have been utterly despicable at five years old. He might even have been quite cute, who knew. At the end of the day, she couldn’t help but scoff, though, because she hadn’t exactly had a good start with that specific group of elitist pricks. Or a good middle for that matter. And she could only hope for a peaceful, neutral end. In the beginning of her school career at Hogwarts, back when she had still wanted to be on centre stage for some reason, those idiots had made it their leisure to pick on her, whenever they could. Although she tried keeping to the background from her second year on, it was only once she chose her track that she managed to keep to it enough to become uninteresting. Or maybe it was just that other things had become more interesting to the heirs, then a girl whose only perks where that one could mock her for being from a middle-class family and focusing on her studies too much. And although the heirs had obviously managed to forget about her, Hermione had been holding a grudge and had never been proved wrong in her opinion about them. Quite on the contrary really, they proved time and again just how entitled they were.

Finally, when they approached Hogwarts several hours later, the Potter heir put his phone away and smiled a not sufficiently miserable smile at the prospect of leaving, considering what was waiting for him out there.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to show myself to them some time”, he cheerily declared, shouldering his book bag.

Hermione just gave him a cool smile at that statement and replied, “Yeah, just don’t be surprised when somebody actually comes up to you and just tries to snog you. They do that, no sense of personal space”.

Harry just started laughing and made to open the door, before stopping to face her once again, “It was Hermione, right?” – she nodded – “Guess your friends call you Mione”.

“Bye, Harry”, she chuckled, trying to get him out, although she couldn’t help the amusement at his obvious slight reluctance to leave the safety of her compartment.

After a few more moments, he literally took a deep breath and left the compartment with the words, “Bye, Mione. Let’s have dinner some time”. She could hear the kerfuffle outside for an instant, before Harry closed the door and the noise cancelling properties of the door came into full use.


	2. Seperate Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, I'm an idiot and accidentally skipped the fucking second chapter.  
> So, here it is

With Harry gone and the train getting closer to the Academy, Hermione changed into her school uniform, enjoying the familiar feeling of silk and fine wool on her skin. One of the advantages of Hogwarts Academy not exactly falling into the affordable category was their uniform being surprisingly not ugly, seeing as it didn’t have to be affordable either. The last part of her changing process was fastening a small emblem of the Hogwarts coat of arms on her, which marked her as student body representative. Afterwards, she had no choice but to leave her comfortable compartment and actually make sure that everybody was leaving the train, thereby doing her job. Doing the rounds, she gently pushed some shy first-years to get off the train and chased out some fifteen-year olds, who had been too busy sucking each other’s faces off to notice that they had already arrived at Hogwarts. She observed the students getting into the cars provided by Hogwarts that took them up to the school, as the way there was long and exhausting. She also watched Harry walk to one of the cars accompanied by three of the other heirs, laughing freely and looking all around comfortable. It didn’t look as if they had been separated for over a decade. Finally, when the bustle had calmed down and nearly all the cars had taken off, she went outside and got into the last car that was left, mildly surprised that the driver wasn’t holding up the door, but then again, maybe he just had a bad day.

She leaned back in the comfortable seat, sinking down a bit and closing her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin, when a smooth voice quite coolly asked, “And what exactly do you think you are doing here?” She had to wait for her pulse to calm down a bit, but then squinted into the relative darkness of the car, only being able to make out the basic features of a young man, or maybe a rather tomboyish girl. The half-light the moon provided might have qualified as excellent mood lightening, but it did an awful job at clearing anything up.

“ _I_ think I’m taking the last car up to my school. What gives _you_ the right to question me?!”, she demanded, her temper flaying up for a moment. Her admittedly low threshold to tantrums wasn’t her proudest personality trait. Apparently, her opposite seemed to agree, as she was met with a sigh from the shadows, until suddenly the lights in the back of the car clicked on. It was to her horror that she realised she was facing none other than the brat to end all brats, Draco Malfoy.

“I assume that this car being mine gives me sufficient reason to do so”, he sighed once again, gesturing to the car door at his side. Hermione glanced at the door of the generously sized limousine only to realize that it was indeed brandishing the Malfoy rather than the expected Hogwarts emblem. She was getting ready to leave the car, thoroughly frustrated by the realisation that this was actually her fault, when Malfoy knocked on the window separating the driver’s cabin from the backseat to signalize his wanting to leave.

“You may thank me later”, he said, his voice and smile both sickly sweet. Hermione huffed in indignation, crossed her arms and defiantly pushed her chin forward. Like hell she would thank him. The most she would do was report his leaving the station long after the scheduled time of departure. Also, she should probably remind the drivers to count through people to make sure that no student was left behind. Or could sneak out.

“Oh, and if this is anybody’s school, it is probably mine”, the Malfoy brat added, his eyes firmly locked on the folder he was studying.

Hermione let out a disbelieving laugh at that and retaliated, “Just because your mother is president of the bloody school board, doesn’t mean this is your school”.

“Then, please, tell me something that proves the contrary”, he scoffed, glancing up for a second to flash her another sugary smile.

Hermione smiled back, murder in her eyes, took off her badge, which she polished meticulously, and then answered, “It must be exceedingly embarrassing to not even be considered as representative of _your own_ school”.

As raised as Hermione found her own voice to be, as bored sounded Malfoy, “I find it less embarrassing for me and more embarrassing for the school that somebody as inarticulate as you would be chosen to represent the student body”. It was a low blow, that sadly hit right at home. How infuriating that Malfoy, after all these years, still knew exactly where to hit.

“That must make it even worse, seeing as somebody as inarticulate as me was _still_ chosen over you”, she parried, because she wasn’t thirteen and easily beaten down anymore.

He raised an eyebrow at that and then settled, as if to admit defeat in this round, “Well, a _lower-class_ student at the top certainly diversifies the picture of Hogwarts”.

Hermione didn’t even grace that with an answer and instead leaned back to stare out of the window and wish Hogwarts to a few meters away, rather than half an eternity, because the damned private school of course needed extensive grounds.

Deciding that the silence wasn’t helping her built up frustration either, she went back to investigate on a thought she had had, “What are you still doing here anyway? All students are supposed to have left a while ago and should be in the Great Hall right now”.

“What’s it to you?”, he inquired, still not really looking up from his papers, still sounding nonchalant and bored. With the frustration boiling up to actual anger, Hermione for a moment contemplated jumping out of the car, just to not have to share it with that git.

“What it is to me is that I’m supposed to make sure that everybody has left the train on time and because of you I haven’t fulfilled that part of my duties”, she explained through gritted teeth, hearing herself getting louder with every single word she said.

The Malfoy brat just shrugged and said, “I’m Draco Malfoy. My staying away won’t pose a problem. I am sure the headmaster would be understanding of my need for privacy”.

She groaned deeply and then sassed, “Well, that of course makes it ok then. I wouldn’t want to hinder Mr. Malfoy taking his precious me-time to prepare for his hoards of fans surrounding him again”. At that, he finally looked up at her. It wasn’t half as satisfying as she had expected. He didn’t look angry or half as frustrated as she felt. He just looked very annoyed and sad, in a way. Something along those lines. All she really knew was that it made her queasy, making her feel like she had crossed some invisible line, although she had stayed perfectly within her boundaries.

“Ignorance, bliss. Something along those lines”, he sighed, giving her a sharp look before he exited the car.

Hermione was left behind feeling steam-rolled and dearly wanted to just stay in the car to think, but her sense of duty won over her need for solitude, so she instead found herself entering the school building and swiftly walking towards the school’s big assembly hall, called the Great Hall. She casually joined her friends during the fourth-year students’ orientation declaration, which was a ridiculous name as it sounded more like the kids were supposed to openly declare their sexual orientation rather than the track, or “house”, they had chosen. For some inexplicable reason, the ceremony also involved a tattered old hat. For an ancient private school, Hermione supposed they got off quite easily with the hat, and it had its charm to it. Sticking out like a soar thumb amongst the queue of fourteen-year olds lining up for the hat was a grown man. Harry Potter of course. Hermione made sure to keep an eye on the ceremony and specifically the teenagers that would soon be moving from the general quarters to the philanthropic ones, but at the same time turned to Ginny.

“Hey”, the younger ginger whispered, a bright inviting smile on her lips as usual. She spent some time just looking at Ginny, trying to map out her face again, noting any difference she might have gone through in the summer. She felt a certain obligation to do so, as Ginny was the closest thing she had to a best friend. Not that she was really anywhere close to that, as Hermione preferred everybody to be at a relative distance. But she was still closer than everybody else. Once she was done with that, she fully tuned back into the ceremony just in time to find that, instead of a half-grown teen with a patchy half of a shadow of a beard that tried its best to hide the ever-growing acne, Harry was sitting down on the chair, wearing the hat and patiently waiting for McGonagall to declared what everybody already knew. Harry Potter of course belonged to the philanthropic house, seeing as he was to inherit the biggest medical corporation in Europe. He then casually walked to the table at the centre of the room and sat down there with his friends, finally claiming the seat that had been empty since Hermione could remember. The fifth heir was back. What a dramatic and life changing moment, Hermione sarcastically thought to herself, as a ridiculous hush fell over the room.

Once the ceremony was concluded, dinner was served. Dinner at the beginning of the school year of course meant a six-course meal at Hogwarts Academy, because how else could they spent the ridiculous amount of boarding fee each family had to pay. It was Dean, Ginny’s boyfriend, who got her out of her internal anti-bourgeois ranting.

“So, how did you spend your summer?”, he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Hermione shrugged, knowing that she couldn’t provide anything interesting, “Same old. I got into a medical research program, which took up all of July. August was spent preparing for the new school year and reading. Then vacation at grandmother’s”. Everybody at her table nodded, having already expected that answer. Hermione’s summers never brought any exciting and new conversation to the table, seeing as it hadn’t changed in the last four years. She worked a lot for school and got into preparatory programs that would help her get exactly the further education she wanted and needed to be able to make any significant change in the world. Have an impact. Summer romances and parties weren’t really Hermione’s usual stories. Although she probably could have used the connections from those parties. Because despite her going to Hogwarts and being around well-connected people at all times, she wasn’t part of the in crowd. After her, it was the others, who told much more interesting stories about their summer than her, talking about boyfriends and adventures and parties.

It was a tad bittersweet. Not that Hermione felt like she needed a man in her life, but it certainly sounded, well, a bit more exciting than her life tended to be.

Noticing Hermione’s expression, Ginny declared, “Hermione, we’re gonna get you a boyfriend this year”. Hermione let out an astonished chuckle, but Ginny’s face stayed perfectly serious.

“No, really, you can’t spend your whole youth just studying. You need to put yourself out there. I mean, there must be at least _one_ guy at Hogwarts that you find attractive”. The only answer that Ginny got was an apologetic shrug, before Hermione gently stirred the conversation into a different direction, so that she could melt back into the comfortable background. There was nobody in Hogwarts she was interested in, although, of course, she hadn’t tried looking too closely. She was aware that Ginny’s youngest brother, Ron had at some point in the last years developed a crush on her, but it was unrequited. Once upon a time, Hermione had had a crush on Fred, another of Ginny’s brothers, because of his light attitude that contrasted her so sharply. But that was a long time ago, and she had realised that they were better off as friends, as, at the end of the day she didn’t have much in common with him. And for the life of her, she couldn’t find it in her to give Cormac McLaggen, the jock, who for some reason had decided to pursue her, a chance. She contemplated all this while spending the evening chitchatting with Ginny and some other people from her house, until finally she went to her room.


	3. Who Can It Be Now?

The next day, Hermione felt ridiculously happy about being woken up by her alarm clock. It would have been surprising to her parents, who knew very well that she was everything but a morning person, but the alarm meant going back to routine, it meant enjoying some peace and quiet, because nearly everybody at Hogwarts was bloody lazy and would never get up before absolutely necessary. On the first day of the school year her early alarm also meant the only way to be on time for the first school board meeting. The only person in the common room was Ginny, who stood right in the middle of it, stretching after what Hermione recognized as her friend’s morning workout. Hermione entered the room as Ginny ever so casually took her leg and basically tugged it behind her ear. For the life of her, she couldn’t see how anybody could be that flexible, but then again, Ginny _was_ a gymnast. A good enough gymnast to receive a scholarship for the Hogwarts Academy, which might have only been half the reason, because she also had a family line that could trace its history back to the beginnings of Hogwarts. But still, she was damn good.

“Morning”, Hermione grumbled, her voice as well as her attitude not being fully there yet at that hour and before a strong cup of English breakfast.

“Good morning”, Ginny chirped, chipper as ever, “Wanna join me for my stretching?”

“Hm”, Hermione contemplated touching her chin, “Don’t really feel like hating myself this early in the year”. Ginny’s light laughter accompanied her out of the common room.

In the breakfast hall, she made her way to her usual table in the left-hand corner, taking one of the papers that was lying on the table and immediately diving into it. She might not have been in the politics track, but she still liked to stay informed. As much as the school liked to divide itself up, the different tracks were all closely interlaced. If the third world war broke out, after all, it would probably be political as well as humanitarian and she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for not knowing beforehand, just because she thought herself above politics. Being unprepared and uninformed, as far as Hermione was considered, was a deadly sin worse than murder. Hermione was surprised when she noticed somebody sitting down next to her, considering her previous observations of nearly every student of Hogwarts. The only people that showed up in the breakfast hall this early were sports people that usually didn’t interact with her and, even worse, Malfoy often times. The people Hermione considered friends weren’t exactly early birds. Although, as mentioned, neither was she. The person sitting next to her, she realized by looking up, was Harry.

“Good morning, Harry”, she smiled, already much more pleasant in character now that she was nourishing a cup of black tea, rather than a headache from sleep deprivation. She wasn’t quite sure what it was about Harry that made her smile, but she just felt quite protective of him. He seemed so genuinely pure and slightly naïve in comparison to the lion den of Hogwarts Academy.

“Good morning, Mione”, he replied, happily munching on the loaded plate he had in front of him already. She could have sworn that the bread he had on there was even nicer than the one everybody else was given. Well, being one of the heirs certainly had its perks.

“So”, he started again, “You’re gonna help me with my schedule, right?” Hermione nodded slowly, glancing at her watch to find out how much time she had left.

Noting that she still had some time, she returned to her paper, but also answered Harry by saying, “I have to attend the school opening conference today, after that we can sit together and look into your schedule as well as your extracurriculars”.

“So, school conference”, Harry repeated, obviously wanting to give or get some input. It was a tad annoying, as Hermione much preferred to be alone in the morning. Still, she found an answer to all his innocent questions, while at the same time keeping a weary eye on her watch. This was of course mainly because she liked to be neither early nor late, but rather perfectly on time, as that put out the kind of pulled together and organized vibe she wanted to give. It was, however, to some extent, also because of who she was sitting with. As much as she hated reducing a person as seemingly lovely as Harry to his status as an heir, knowing the drama that always revolved around this specific group, she couldn’t help it. Harry Potter, no matter how nice and innocent he might have been, meant a lot of trouble that she certainly didn’t want to deal with any more than she had to. That might have been why she left the breakfast hall a bit earlier than necessary, before people started to trickle in.

“Well, I’ve got to go”, she smiled, as she stood up and gathered her stuff. Then with a glance at the centre of the room she noticed that Malfoy had arrived there and remarked as much to Harry, who gladly stood up and went to his side. How could such an agreeable person be friends with such an utter arse?

She contemplated that as she walked through the halls and towards the big conference room, that was reserved for the big conferences, where the whole school board and teaching body had to be present. When Hermione arrived there, a few members of the school board were already sitting in their assigned spots, while others were still chit-chatting outside, catching up on what had happened in the high society during the summer. No more than three minutes after she sat down in her spot, the doors to the conference room were closed and the headmaster opened the conference. She let her gaze fly over the room, taking in the people there and noting any changed in position. Not that there ever were many of those. The Hogwarts Academy regulation board was always picked from a selection of the same few families, who had been ruling over the school for God knew how long. At the position exactly opposite of the headmaster, which was much more telling than it probably should have been, sat the same radiantly beautiful woman as ever. Narcissa Malfoy, head of the school regulation board. Hermione had luckily never got in her way, but if the gossip of the board was to be believed to any extend, Narcissa was as painfully beautiful as she was just plain painful. Really, the only change in the board was a timid man, who looked to be in his early forties and seemed attentive, but in a minimally invasive way.

While she had made her observations, the headmaster had given his usual opening speech and noted some changes that would be established this school year, some rules that be revoked and some changed from last year that wouldn’t last. It was mostly cosmetics. After this was done, he introduced her as the student body representative, to which she reacted with a curt bow of her head, because this was her third year as such and she knew what to do, and the boy next to her as the lower level representative. Then, finally, they got into the thick of the discussions she was actually here for. It was after all her job as student body representative to, well, represent the student body and its opinions. After a discussion about one of the teaching positions being refilled after only one year _again,_ the topic suddenly turned to Harry. Hermione wasn’t necessarily surprised by that, but she still sat up a bit straighter, trying to hide her confusion at how openly this was addressed. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong or special. He just happened to be Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall took it upon her to explain the proceedings so far, starting with the inclusion process and how he had been separated on the train and then continuing into his classes and the likes. This new topic of the Potter heir made a collective murmur go through the crowd that slowly picked up as everybody was excitedly gossiping like a bunch of teenagers.

As soon as Narcissa Malfoy raised her hand, however, it quieted down, “Please, dear colleagues, let us behave accordingly to our position and age”. There were a few huffs, but Narcissa shot them down with one look.

“Well, Remus, we simply must know”, one of the school board mothers addressed the new board member, “Is he engaged yet?” It was then that the timid face clicked, and she connected it to Remus Lupin, a major shareholder in the Potter corporation and husband to Harry’s godfather.

Mr. Lupin raised an eyebrow at the mother and then very calmly answered, “The boy is eighteen years old, Anne-Marie”.

“The _boy_ ”, somebody else pitched up, “will inherit the Potter corporation at twenty-two years old”.

“Yes, I am aware, Elisabeth”, Mr. Lupin sighed, taking a sip from his water and obviously gulping down some of his frustration with it. This set the tone for most of the following discussion, only picking up more and more with every voiced opinion.

“And his exposure in the press since his reappearance has shown just how prone to mistake he is, Lupin”, another mother spoke up, obviously disapproving,

“He was ill-prepared for his position. It would be easiest to find him a fiancé that actually knows how to move around these circles”.

She thought this was the moment that Mr. Lupin would snap, because she certainly would have, but instead he ever so calmly turned to her, gave her a warm smile, and asked, “Miss Granger. As the only one who has actually observed my son amongst his peers, what is your opinion on the topic”.

She harrumphed, as all eyes turned to her, nobody expecting her to be involved, herself least of all, “Well, so far Harry seems to be perfectly alright. None of the scandals you have mentioned have made it to Hogwarts and I suppose that the other heirs know how to navigate these social circles well enough” – then after a moment she added – “As long as he keeps away from the fangirls he should be fine”. As soon as she had finished that sentence she regretted it, as she was sat facing two of the mothers of said fangirls, who followed the heirs around like they were the reincarnations of ancient gods.

“ _Fangirls?”,_ the mother of Lavender Brown, one of the leading fangirls asked, sounding more than affronted.

Luckily, Professor McGonagall jumped to her help and with a tight-lipped smile explained, “Oh, Evelyn, we all know how girls this age can be impressed by a group of young, handsome, influential men. It is a term of endearment, really”. McGonagall’s rescue statement was met with a few chuckles from all sides, which made Hermione release a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding.

“Well, I agree, Miss Granger”, Narcissa Malfoy declared with a charming smile that made her even more beautiful, if that was even a possibility, “Harry has a group of friends that know what they do, so as long as he keeps to Draco and their mutual friends, he should be fine” – she paused and turned to Mr. Lupin – “But do think about his future, Remus, not just any girl will do”.

“I know, Narcissa”, Mr. Lupin sighed deeply, “Believe me, I do”. They both had such a finality in their voices, that the topic of Harry Potter was silently declared done. It took about one and a half hours more, until the conference was done. Hermione intended to leave right away, because having to sit with these people for at least one hour six times a year was really enough, but she was stopped in her attempts by Mr. Lupin gently touching her shoulder.

“Mr. Lupin”, she addressed him with the usual respect she would give any board member but throwing in a smile for good measure.

“Miss Granger, please call me Remus”, he smiled back, leaning on one of the chairs, delicately balancing on it. He had a certain calm charm to him that reminded her of that sexy English teacher fantasy everybody had at some point. It wasn’t aggressive in any way, but comfortably enticing. She might even have been worried for herself, if Remus wasn’t so openly gay.

“That would be rather awkward with you calling me Miss Granger”, she remarked.

Remus chuckled, but his expression turned a bit more serious when he asked, “So, how’s Harry doing, Hermione?”

“He’s fine”, she smiled, “Honestly, it’s a bit like he’s never been gone”.

Remus nodded gravely, as if considering that, then he looked back at her, “I suppose it would be a bit bold to ask you to watch over him?”

“I think he and his friends can take care of him just fine”, she reassured, this time actually turning to leave.

“Thank you, Hermione”, his voice followed her outside.

“You’re more then welcome”, she replied, before rushing off to catch the beginning of her first class for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go for two chapters a week for now, no promises that I can keep this up, because I am a horrible procrestinator
> 
> If you want to talk to me, hmu on tumblr, same name as here


	4. Beat It

Later in the day, she found the time to plan Harry’s courses and extracurricular activities, which didn’t take more than half an hour. It was obvious which courses he needed to attend, because of the corporation he was to inherit. At least to Hermione, who had extensive knowledge on anything so significant to the medical world, it was. As far as extracurriculars went, Harry was honestly a jock, enjoying rugby the most and having rediscovered his love for rowing. Knowing that put Hermione off in a way, because it was so classically private school boy despite Harry not having grown up in that life style. Maybe it was just in his blood. Or it might have been the picture of his late father, James Potter, hanging in the trophy case next to an old rugby ball that had one them the British championship and his name being engraved in an oar displayed in another glass case. She couldn’t help but wonder, if his mother’s awards in the field of chemistry would have a similar effect. Those musings, however, only kept her company for a few hours.

On the next day, Hermione was happy to have handed Harry off to his friends and be able to fully concentrate on her studies again, as she like to do. Going back to her routine meant noting down detailed information from all of her classes, answering every question and spending a huge chunk of her spare time preparing for her next classes. It also meant having lunch and dinner with her friends, switching between spending her evenings with them and alone in her bed with a good book. One of her favourite parts in the day, she realised once again, was her office hour as a student body representative, which, granted, in the beginning of the school year meant consoling a whole bunch of first years who missed, well, mostly their nannies or siblings, rather than their parents who they spent hardly any time with anyway. Those hours still made her feel like she was trying her best to have an impact, although a sneaky little voice in the back of her head whispered about her not going to the limit of her means of helping, because she wanted to keep out of the drama. This was proving a bit harder than in all the years before anyway, because Harry had decided to spend a considerable amount of time with her, hanging around her office in her office hours and chatting with her.

While she was working on getting back into her comfortable trot, the first week passed like a breeze and before she could react to it, a pleasantly warm Sunday had raised its head. The Scottish weather had decided to be cordial and brought gentle rays of autumn sun, that lured out even the laziest of students, onto the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione didn’t need to be asked twice to spend her day off outside. However, she didn’t join the other students that were cramped on the near side of the lake, but rather walked past them to the far bank of the lake, where hardly anybody was seated. The ancient willow trees that were planted on the further bank weren’t very popular with most of the student body, doing too good a job at hiding the kids and teens, who mostly had an apparent need to present themselves. Hermione couldn’t have been happier about that as she sat down under a particularly beautiful, old willow that spread her branches impossibly far, reaching a nice bit over the lake and grounding herself through a nice thick trunk that invited anybody to lean on it and, yes, admittedly, sometimes swoon about somebody or dream of a better future. For Hermione, it was mostly the latter, where she got lost in day dreams of the change she would someday be able to accomplish. Sometimes, though very rarely, however, she found herself thinking about some guy or another. Faces that she had just caught sight of once that she could build a whole future with, safely tucked away in her imagination.

Leaning back, she put in her earphones and put on some trashy eighties music that she couldn’t help but enjoy, if she was perfectly honest. That was simply because it wasn’t demanding in any way, but merely an invitation to drown in the waves of nostalgia and melodrama. To add to that feeling of leisure, Hermione opted to not read the medical journal she had brought, but rather a silly young adult novel she had found in her favourite book store in London. She flipped through the pages quickly, keeping up a fast reading pace easily, seeing as the matter wasn’t exactly challenging, all the while humming along to her music. The book she read might have even had the potential to become _the next big thing_ , or something along those lines. She came to that conclusion when she finished a rather spicy chapter and realised that one of her favourite particularly trashy songs was playing and she couldn’t help but sing along. God knew, she wasn’t a gifted singer or even an acceptable singer, but she couldn’t have cared less as she belted out the high notes in a ghastly manner.

She basically choked, when during a particularly high-pitched part of the song, she was pushed by the shoulder and not too gently at that. Ready to apologize to whoever had had to suffer through her singing, she pulled out her earphones and turned around to face whoever thought that mild physical abuse was a good way to approach somebody. Even if they sang awfully.

“Have you started some weird vendetta with the ultimate goal to drive me to suicide?”, none other than Draco Malfoy asked exasperatedly. Her intention to apologize was gone in an instant and replaced by a familiar kind of fury at the brat’s tone.

“Oh, yes, the one thing that keeps me going are my malicious plans to continuously disturb your precious me-time”, she sassed, keeping her voice purposefully cold and nonchalant. Malfoy didn’t twitch an eye, but only looked at her with that expression of mild disgust again.

At his zero reaction she added, “As far as I can see, Mr. Malfoy, this tree doesn’t have your family crest carved into it. And seeing as it’s on school grounds without any other affiliation, I must assume that it belongs to the school and I am therefore perfectly within my rights to sit here”. Even that didn’t get a particularly strong response.

The brat just looked very tired as he rubbed his hands over his face and then finally groaned, “This tree, indeed, doesn’t belong to me, so I can’t ask you to leave. But, in god’s name, _please,_ keep the singing down. Because I could here it three trees over and as much as I hate to disappoint, your rendition of ‘I just died in your arms tonight’ isn’t all that relaxing”.

At that, finally, Hermione blushed, admitting internally that he was right, and muttered, “I didn’t realise I’d sung that loudly”.

Malfoy just nodded dismissively and then sank down the length of the trunk, sitting down next to her.

“The tree to people ratio on this side of the lake is very much in the trees favour, brat, so why in heaven’s name are you sitting down here?”, she frowned at him.

The brat sighed, his head turned towards the sun with his eyes closed, “This is the only way I can think of to make sure that you won’t jump into a dramatic rendition of ‘Don’t you want me’”. That managed to get a smile out of Hermione for a fraction of a second, because that happened to be one of her favourite songs, but she caught herself and went back to a minimum effort frown. Deciding that she couldn’t really do anything about the situation for now, she reopened her novel and jumped back into reading it. After about three chapters she stopped short, realising that the male lead was a blond, arrogant prince with a heart gold. Well, if that wasn’t perfectly fitting and rather coincidental. Save the heart of gold of course, because she wasn’t even entirely sure if Draco Malfoy had a heart or if some crippled black clump pumped the blood through his body. Or maybe he was just actually run by a block of ice. That would certainly explain the paleness. She chortled at that thought, out loud.

“Amusing read?”, the human ice block inquired.

“Oh, yes, but you wouldn’t understand. Can you even feel amusement other than from tormenting people?”, she retaliated. Malfoy smirked for a second, his eyes still closed softly, and then went back to his relaxed but tired expression.

Refusing to go back to the book that was about to get very suggestive with a character that was described to look a lot like the guy next to her, she instead opted to study the real version. His eyes were still closed, his skin glowing slightly golden in the mild autumn sun. It lit his face nicely, showing the sharp, aristocratic angles of his face, but smoothing them out at the same time. The sunshine somehow made him look less arrogant and despicable than he was, but it couldn’t hide his obvious tiredness. Probably partied too much.

“I sure hope I’m pleasant to look at”, the Malfoy heir asked dryly. Caught like a deer in headlights, Hermione opened the book back up, right back to that juicy scene, which made her blush furiously.

“Apparently, that book of yours isn’t all too interesting”, he muttered after a few seconds. She could only roll her eyes at that. Arrogant prick.

“It must give you a wonderful sense of superiority to role your eyes at me”, Malfoy continued after another few seconds. Unsettled, Hermione glanced to the side only to find that his eyes were indeed still closed. How in heaven’s name had he known about her rolling her eyes then? Was she that predictable? Her coping mechanisms were at least, apparently.

“Feeling superior is your domain not mine”, she spat, now fully riled up again.

The Malfoy heir’s condescending laugh didn’t help his case as he wondered, “Isn’t it paradox how you feel superior to me, because of not feeling superior to anybody?” She stared at him for a long moment, furious and very close to snapping, but then closed her book, stood up and left.

She walked away from him, choosing the longer, winding path to the castle to avoid the masses of people. She was still fuming with anger and didn’t feel like interacting with anybody. In the castle, she headed straight for the blissfully nearly empty common room, settling in in one of the cosy chairs facing the nicely lit fire place with a bar of chocolate and the medical journal from before. Out of the corner of her eyes she observed a few people entering the common room, chatting and gossiping. God, why were people here always gossiping?

“Harry is so hot, don’t you think?”, she heard a girl whisper to her friend. Romilda Vane, was her name, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“He’s cute”, the other girl, whose voice Hermione didn’t recognise, answered, “But Draco is the really hot one. He’s so brooding”. Hermione couldn’t help but role her eyes. It seemed that people really didn’t have bigger things to worry about. Her little condescending thought was ruined for her though, as Malfoy’s words echoed in her mind. _It must give you a wonderful feeling of superiority to role your eyes._ Gossiping about some pretty boys was probably easier than hearing about your mother’s affair with the tennis instructor and your dad’s addiction to cocaine once again.

“I heard his mother is talking to the Greengrasses about marriage”, Romilda continued the conversation, “Apparently, they want to see him engaged with either Daphne or Astoria”. Well, that was news to Hermione. But then again, not surprising news, because the big fish in Hogwarts tended to get engaged quite early, usually to ensure some dynasty or merge companies. Draco Malfoy probably was no exception to that rule, no matter how aloof he acted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr under the same name, if you dare  
> Also, I hope you enjoyed the bants


	5. We Didn't Start The Fire

She was not as surprised as she maybe should have been, when in the next week, Harry still came around to see her quite regularly, although he had four friends and more people that wanted to be than he could count at his hands. She let him do as he pleased, partly, because it was only the second week of the term, but mostly, because she felt for him. Being the control freak she was, she had of course researched everything about Harry Potter that she could find in the news coverage, and it turned out that his aunt and uncle had treated him quite cruelly, deriving him of any kind of affection. That was at least what the trial they were involved in suggested. Knowing that, she couldn’t really fault him for hanging on to the first person who had treated him nicely. He was a rather pleasant person as well, chatty most of them time, but also capable to just quietly study next to her, trying to somehow catch up to the level he was supposed to have got in seven years of previous elite private school education.

As it were, she would have accepted him into her little group of friends with pleasure, but she was just so very wary of the drama surrounding him. The unnecessary drama that just naturally came with each of the heirs was already bad enough. But when she thought about how little people knew about Harry so far, because he had been lost, and how untrained Harry was in this kind of society. It was just a powder keg waiting to explode really and Hermione really could do without being anywhere in its vicinity, when it would inevitably go off. She quite enjoyed the private and not scandalous life she had lead in Hogwarts so far and she preferred to have it stay that way. A lot of girls and guys, for all its worth, would have loved to be that spark that would make all hell break loose by just doing one wrong gesture, but Hermione didn’t. But, of course, because destiny was, to eloquently put it, a bitch, when it happened, sooner rather than later, she was right in the middle of it.

She had spent the afternoon sitting under her favourite willow tree again, this time blissfully undisturbed by particularly insufferable heirs, enjoying what she knew to probably be one of the last nice days this year, considering it was the end of September in the north of Scotland. When dusk finally set in, she begrudgingly gathered her stuff and made her way to the portal of the school, only to find Harry sitting there and looking, for lack of better words, like a lost puppy.

“Hey there”, she smiled, using a cautious voice, that, yes, she might have used on upset dogs before.

The Potter heir grinned back at her and waved her over, “Hey, Mione”. It startled her, how ridiculous the whole picture looked. Harry obviously tried to seem very casual as he leaned against the walls, but rather than relaxed, he seemed tenser than she had ever seen him.

“What’s going in?”, she asked warily, a protective instinct in her acting up at Harry’s unusual demeanour, “It’s freezing here, so why aren’t you going in?”

“I’m not cold”, he smiled, still awkwardly. When she sceptically raised her eyebrow at him, he went so far as to take off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

“See, not even a little cold”, he declared, but he wasn’t even close to fooling her.

“I don’t really wanna go in there”, he muttered after a few moments, crumbling under the pressure of her gaze. Rather than saying anything, she just crossed her arms and waited for him to finally tell what was troubling him, so that they could both get on with life. Harry blushed a bit, as he pulled something up on his phone and handed it to her. The site he had pulled up was the Daily Prophet, a paper that for some reason focussed almost entirely on the Hogwarts Academy, companies of Hogwarts families and Hogwarts alumni, as well as an embarrassing amount of Hogwarts gossip. The article she was looking at fell into the last category and showed Harry, closely entangled with a pretty Asian girl. The text was mostly speculating about who the girl was and if she was his fiancé or girlfriend or if she was just an affair, which of course would have been even more interesting to that piece of trash that dared call itself a newspaper.

Hermione sighed ever so deeply, facepalming on the inside, but trying her best not to show Harry that she had seen that coming the second he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. How could anybody, how could _an heir_ be so stupid as to get caught making out in public? Hermione wouldn’t have been able to get away with that without creating a gigantic ruckus and she was absolutely insignificant in regard to the Hogwarts gossip. Of course, the lost heir had kicked loose an entire avalanche. Still, because she felt weirdly protective of that boy, who was naïve enough to let that happen, she went into problem solver mode.

“When did that article come out?”, she asked, already thinking of how many people might have seen it and how if she could get it removed, because maybe, if she was lucky, that girl was under eighteen.

“They published it about an hour ago”, Harry muttered, barely opening his mouth at all, so that only years of listening to distressed first years allowed for her to understand. A groan escaped her lips. Perfect timing, it was, really, with all the students sitting in the great hall for dinner. Considering the speed at which rumours spread in Hogwarts, which was akin to a virus, every single person already knew about it.

“I don’t really want to deal with this”, he pouted, a blush grazing his cheeks, probably at his own lack of thinking.

“Yes, well, I don’t think anybody would. Including me”, she sighed, “But for some reason, mainly you having chosen me as your go-to person, I don’t think I can stay out of this”.

“How’s that?”, he wondered, latching onto the slight change in topic.

“Well, people seem to think that I have a lot more insight into your life than I actually do”, she groaned.

After a few moments of them both quietly contemplating what they would have to deal with respectively, Harry suddenly brightened up, standing straight up again and fully grinning at her.

“So, we need to find a different way in then”, he declared, something in his eyes telling her that he had a very good idea of how to get in, although Hermione knew of no entrance to the castle other then the main one and servant’s entrance, where they wouldn’t be let through. With a smug grin, he took out a tattered map out of his back pocket and handed it to her proudly.

Opening it up and glancing at different parts, Hermione stated the obvious, “It’s a map of Hogwarts”. She was still wondering where the hell he had got that from, when Harry had already grabbed her hand and pulled her with him along the outer wall of Hogwarts until the reached a gnarly old tree that people lovingly called old Huff, because apparently one of the founders had planted it. Harry grinned at her even more, as he leaned against it and then gave it a casual knock with his elbow. The most ridiculous thing happened, as the bark opened, showing that it was actually hollowed out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, Hermione huffed, as she stared at the tree, “A secret passage?” As if Hogwarts hadn’t been ridiculous enough, now she had to wonder about secret passages being everywhere. The Potter heir just shrugged as if it was the most natural thing ever and then went in first, helping her down, his hand still firmly holding hers and guiding her.

“Where did you get that map from anyway?”, she wondered again, though this time it was out loud.

“My father”, Harry answered, his voice echoing in the damp passage way, “He and his friends, meaning my godfather and his husband designed it, while they were at Hogwarts” – at that he stopped short, making her nearly run into him and be close enough that she could see his broad grin, despite the darkness – “They got bored a lot”.

At that point they had reached the other end of the passage way and Harry stepped up easily, still guiding her, and then opened the door with his other hand, going out first and then helping her, which she gladly accepted, because although she was admittedly overly proud a lot of the time, she did like her bones in their current unbroken state. As soon as she was out of the door, she realised their mistake. The giant mistake they had made by not checking if anybody was here, because standing only a few feet away was a fifth-year Griffin girl, who stared at them and then ran off to the Great Hall to, no doubt, spread what she had just witnessed amongst the crowd. And that of course was _the_ Harry Potter, newly returned heir of the philanthropic house coming out of a supply closet together with the student body representative, Hermione. Hermione, who he had spent an extraordinary amount of time with and whose compartment he had been in the whole ride to Hogwarts. Hermione, who had been wearing his jacket still and who he had been holding hands with. Great. Bloody amazing. That was exactly what Hermione hadn’t even feared, but knew, was coming, because that’s just what happened around the bloody heirs. People were so excited at them, that they didn’t even make the slightest attempt to question a situation, but just ran off spreading their incorrect conclusions. Hermione sighed deeply, knowing full well that this was out of her hands for now, calmly pulled her hand from Harry, who was still holding on to it, then took off the jacket and handed it back to him.

“Well, at least that article won’t be an issue anymore”, she sassed, not at Harry but more at herself, because although Harry didn’t know any better, she really should have.

“What are we gonna do?”, he wondered, his face hopeless and a bit loss.

“Nothing, Harry”, she answered, “We’re going to do nothing”.

Then after a deep breath she added, “This will spread like wildfire, no prevention possible. So, let’s just keep apart for now and have them make some more conclusions of their own” – she sighed once more – “And if they ask you about this, just brush it off. That should do the job just fine”.

She left him standing there guiltily, although he really wasn’t the one to blame, and headed back to the common room, glad to find Ginny and Dean sit on their usual love chair and to her positive surprise not even snogging the life out of each other, which might have been aesthetically pleasing due to the nice contrast, but still quite annoying to watch. She fell into the chair opposite of them and then groaned, loudly and obviously frustrated, which got her both of their attention.

Staring them both down firmly she whispered, “I am neither sleeping with, nor dating Harry Potter”.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up at that and Ginny answered, slightly confused, “Thanks for that information, I guess?” Only after having clarified that did she tell her friends what had just happened. It didn’t surprise her as much as she would have wanted to, when both of them rather than pitying and comforting her, were laughing actual tears within seconds of her having finished her story. Ginny was wheezing, nearly falling out of her chair, which Hermione _wished_ would have happened. In frustration she threw a pillow at both of them, not ready for their happiness, when she was caught in a sense of impending doom.

“It was about time you got caught up in a scandal with an heir”, Ginny giggled after a while, “It’s a rite of passage”. Somehow, that managed to get through to her, even in her horrible mood, reminding her of the short affair the redhead had had with Blaise Zabini, the designated womanizer in the heirs, who had of course not passed by the pretty gymnast that had a crush on him. It got her out of her stupor enough that once the first people started trickling in from dinner, she fled from the common room, hiding in her own room for the rest of the day.


	6. Up Where We Belong

As expected, the rumour spread fast. Hermione considered doing a beautiful little virus study on it for her sociology project. She found out so, when only moments after hiding away she heard a knock on her door from Parvati asking her to come out and chat over a cup of tea. It just so happened that Parvati only ever wanted to interact with her, when she hoped to get some gossip out of it. Hermione chose not to interact with her at all, or anybody else for the matter. Fascinatingly, she found more prove for her virus theory, as the rumour evolved at a rapid speed and seemingly random. It started out as she had expected with people assuming that she had _fooled around_ with Harry in the supply closet. Overnight it changed into her being in a full-on relationship with Harry, which made sense for a lot of people she assumed. She heard that one before her first lesson of the next day, seeing as she had skipped out on breakfast to avoid, well, everybody really. At dinner, she heard that Harry had only come to Hogwarts because of her, wanting to spend his last year of school with her, which made little sense. And along with that came to inevitable, more dramatic version in which she was the love of his life, but his family didn’t approve and planned on marrying him off after school. Hermione was pretty sure that she’s seen that movie at least three times and read it a thousand more. That rumour, maybe because of its quite tragic nature, held on well, but died, when Harry didn’t interact with her anymore. After that, the rumour mill kind of turned on her, switching to Harry actually being married off to _her_ and the Asian girl being the love of his life. That one stayed well and alive for the longest time, but as no more fuel came to it with Harry staying well away from that girl and really anybody that wasn’t his group of guy friends. When it had finally died down altogether, three weeks of school life had passed, and Hermione could at last get back to living her normal life in her normal rhythm, including breakfast at a Christian time, sometimes even having a cheeky lunch and spending the evenings in the common room.

It surprised her, when the first time she had lunch with her friends again, there was a dull sort of pain that told her she had missed it. She had missed being both happy for and disgusted with Ginny and Dean’s constant PDA and she’d missed chatting with Luna about some abstruse philosopher’s concept that was beyond her understanding and hearing Neville blabber on about plants for the whole hour they had off. So, she made sure to spend a bit more time with her friends than she usually did at this point in the school year. But still, Hermione could no more escape who and how she was than anybody else, so she found herself wandering off to study or just spend time alone. A lot of those times, as autumn hit Scotland at full force, she found herself unable to go to the lake and therefore sought out her second favourite spot in the whole school. It was the highest tower of the old school building that people still called the astronomy tower, although it hadn’t been used for that purpose in ages. Hermione didn’t allow herself a lot of privileges because of her position, although she could have had plenty, but spending time at the astronomy tower, which was off limits to the student body, was one of them.

As she went up to the astronomy tower again, she felt the tension that had built up because of spending the whole day interacting with people non-stop leave her body with every step she took up the staircase. Once she had reached the top, she took one deep, relieved breath, stretched a good bit and then sat down with her earphones plugged in.

Ready to start belting out 80s tunes, she turned on her iPod, but was stopped by somebody saying, “Please don’t sing again”. Pulling out her headphones again, she shuffled a bit to the side, only to find that at the other side of the tower, Draco Malfoy was already sitting there, mirroring her position by being leant against the wall with a folder in his lap.

“I somehow managed to avoid you for a solid five years, Malfoy”, she groaned, “That worked out quite well for us, so why do you keep popping up everywhere like daisies?”

“I could ask you the very same question”, he replied coolly, already back to scanning his folder, which Hermione assumed was about some Malfoy business or other.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, but she wouldn’t even consider giving up this spot of hers for the sake of Draco Malfoy. Surely, the tower was big enough to accommodate her, the Malfoy brat and his giganteas ego without any interference.

That assumption was proven wrong, when after a few minutes of silent reading, Malfoy’s voice interrupted her work flow by saying, “You are either much smarter or much more stupid than I assumed”. She groaned inwardly, rolling her eyes again, and fought hard not to tell him to just fuck off, but instead mustered a sarcastic grunt to keep the truce.

“Which of the two it is, of course, entirely depends on what’s going on between Harry and you”, he mused on, apparently very happy to be monologuing, “Because either you have developed feelings for him, which would of course be incredibly idiotic, as he _will_ be marrying someone of standing. Or you slept with him to put yourself in the spotlight and entangle your name with his, which, although cold, could be considered quite smart considering the possibilities it could open up”.

“Malfoy”, she moaned, more than tired of his musings at that point, “is there any point to this or do you just enjoy hearing yourself talk?” When she looked at Malfoy, she found that for once he was actually looking back at her while talking.

“Which of the two is it?”, he inquired, studying her face closely.

She groaned once more, something she did entirely to much of, when she was around the brat, and finally satisfied his curiosity, “Neither”. This was met with a raised eyebrow by Malfoy, who seemed aghast, but not unbelieving.

“It was an honest mistake, a slip up really”, she sighed, no willing to jump into the full explanation, as he could get that from Harry if he needed to know so badly, “I do care for Harry, but that is, I can promise you as much, entirely platonic. It is barely more than finding him less insufferable than the rest of your lot and pitying him, I suppose, for being thrown into this hell hole of a school without any preparation or warning”.

She took a moment to breath, before she ended with, “Quite possibly, really, I might be the only person in this school that has no interest in using him” – and as an afterthought – “Also, I have no idea, why I am explaining myself to you”.

Looking at Malfoy, she wasn’t quite sure how to interpret his expression. There seemed to be a lot going on in his head, but she had every intention to leave him to figure that out for himself.

She got up and made to turn around and leave, when Malfoy said “Stay” in such a naturally commanding voice that she couldn’t help but obey. Instead, she spun around to face him and spat, “What?”

“I don’t want to use him either”, he declared, looking directly into her eyes. At her confused expression he added, “I’d never use him. He’s one of my oldest friends, although I have lost track of him in recent years”. It made her blush a bit, to be honest, embarrassed her a bit. For as much as Hermione despised the brat, she had never seen him treat his friends anything less than respectfully and affectionately at times.

Malfoy got up and approached her, saying, “If you actually care for him, then help him” – he came closer – “Spend more time with us”.

“I’d rather not, thank you very much”, she frowned, a bit perplexed by that sudden request, “There’s too much drama surrounding all of you”.

“You’re right”, Malfoy nodded, by now standing only a few feet away from her and looking down at her, because he was quite a bit taller, “And you’re right to pity him. He wasn’t brought up to fill his place in this world like I was, and he doesn’t get to live at the very boarders of this world like you” – standing closer to him, she noticed that the brat looked tired again, as he did a lot somehow – “Harry’s a bit like a puppy. He’s too nice and he likes everybody immediately. He’s not wary of people. And at the moment that’s dangerous, because he is neither engaged nor in a relationship. So, having a responsible woman keep the girls at bay could make all the difference”.

At that point Hermione wasn’t sure how to react in any other way than staring at him openly. But because it was the brat she was talking to, she decided to go for the offence, “Are you absolute prick actually suggesting that _I_ should give up my privacy, my study time and just basically my life to become Harry Potter’s babysitter, just because you won’t tell your fan club to fuck off?!”

Malfoy stayed frustratingly calm and answered, “I am suggesting that, yes, you sacrifice a tiny bit of the privacy you’re holding on to for dear life for the sake of a person you assured me you care for and pity” – he looked at her and continued – “I suggest that you sacrifice a bit of privacy for connections with some of the most influential people in Europe, if not the world”.

“And why would I want those?”, she huffed, refusing to even move an inch, metaphorically that was.

“You are a Griffin”, he stated, as if that was an answer, “Don’t you desperately want to heal the world, make it a better place and other Michael Jackson lyrics? Well, good luck with making a change, having any sort of impact at all, without giving up your privacy”.

He paused for a bit, before saying, “Believe me, with the right motivation, your privacy is a small thing to sacrifice”

For a bit, she just stood there like a fish out of water, repeatedly opening her mouth to say something with no sound coming out of it. Finally, for lack of an alternative, she sat back down, sliding down the wall.

“What exactly would that mean for me then? Being the responsible woman in his life, I mean”, she quired, “I’m not going to date him”.

The Malfoy heir sat down smoothly next to her, settling on his knees, “Why in heaven’s name should he date you?” She glared at him at that, but didn’t put her heart into it. There objectively was no reason for Harry and her to date and as mentioned, she didn’t feel any desire to.

“The crux of this whole thing is that I cannot keep girls away from Harry”, he began, seriously, “If anything, I attract even more of them. But if you were around him, keeping close, then maybe they would consider him not worth the effort of getting past you and focus their attention on somebody else instead. Somebody who knows how to handle it”. Hermione nodded along, showing that she was actually taking his words into consideration.

“It would give him time to settle. Give his family time to find a suitable partner for he future or himself time to find an appropriate girlfriend with some guidance from us”, he continued and then put on a perfectly business face to show that he was getting to what she would get in exchange for that effort, “You would of course get connections with Harry, Ernie, Blaise, Anthony and me, seeing as you’d spend time in our little group. I would also ask you to attend semi-official events with us, so that Harry can’t take anybody that might be mistaken for a possible fiancé, where you’d meet more influential people. I gather you could make some use of that”. After that the brat was quiet, letting her consider what was essentially a business proposal.

Finally, he stood up just as smoothly as he had sunk down and added, “You can hideaway for the rest of your life and hope that nobody bothers you, or you can demand the attention you need to make a difference. Considering your inevitable hero’s complex, I’d strongly suggest the second option”. With that he turned around and strutted downstairs, his head held high as always.

She enjoyed the quiet once Malfoy was gone, finally doing her reading, but also considering what the Malfoy heir had said. At the end of the day, she had to admit he was right. People who lived privately and never put themselves out there, hardly ever made a change, because nobody cared until you forced them to. To be perfectly honest, she had come to this school, because its alumni shaped the world, knowing this education was part of the reason. But she had ignored the connections the school provided, which were just as important. All of that made her decision quite easy, so that after a night of sleep she was ready to approach Malfoy. She would have done so at breakfast, because she usually had hers early in the morning, when hardly anybody was there except Malfoy, for some reason, but she slept in a bit and she certainly didn’t want to stir a commotion by talking to the brat in front of everybody.

Instead she waited for the ethics class they had together and shot him a look there that clearly communicated, “I made my decision, come see me afterwards”. As expected, he got the message loud and clear and stayed behind quite casually, taking a bit longer to get his things together, while Hermione talked to their teacher until everybody was gone.

Malfoy didn’t say anything, but just leaned on one of the tables in the front row, facing her and waiting.

“I’ll do it”, she muttered, leaning down on the teacher’s table, so she was in the same position. Somehow, she always felt that if she was in a different position than him, she was at an inherit disadvantage.

Crossing her arms to add a layer of distance she added, “But on my terms only”.

“Pray do tell”, he encouraged gesturing with his hand towards her.

She harrumphed and then started, “First of all, Harry must never know that I needed some, well, logical encouragement in this decision” – after Malfoy nodded, she added – “Secondly, I will absolutely not spy on him for you or anything like that. I will not have my moral compass corrupted”.

“I have no interest in adjusting your morals in any way, Granger”, Malfoy sighed, once again choosing to look straight at her, “He’s my friend. I just want him not to fuck up”.

“Right”, she muttered and then more loudly continued, “I will deal with the giggly crew and all that jazz on my own and I won’t have you interfere unless I ask you to” – “How about you scratch the asking part altogether. Otherwise I could just find a way to do it myself rather than painstakingly convince you to do it”, he interrupted her, his expression once again blasé, bored.

“And finally,”, Hermione declared, seeking his gaze and holding it proudly, “Don’t ever call me Hermione. I’d like to reserve my full name for my real friends”.

“I’ll come up with something else then”, he shrugged and left the room without another word. And that was it. Without so much as an official handshake or a final warning, Hermione had changed the course of her last school year and given up the peace and quiet she had so enjoyed the last years. Surprisingly, it hadn’t hurt a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, for some reason I procrastinated putting this chapter up all day, although I absolutely love it
> 
> anyway, the usual applies, tumblr is still my username, hit me up


	7. Every Time You Go Away

Hermione knew better than to make a grand entrance to the group of the heirs. Quite frankly, that would have been the stupidest thing she could have done, sparking unmet heights of gossip. Instead, she moved slowly, acquainting people with the thought of her being connected with the heirs, so that rumours of her sudden appearance in that group wouldn’t spread. She resumed sitting with Harry in lessons and spent some time with him outside of them, sometimes choosing to chat with him in the common room rather than with her friends and sometimes just having him join her group. She thought that having breakfast with Harry would be the next most logical step, and so she did drag him to breakfast a few times, but it turned out that Harry was impossible in the morning and so she took it as a sign to just take a seat at the heirs’ table in the morning and wait until Harry came in with the rest. Eventually, she sat with them for lunch and dinner, always making sure to show that she felt protective of Harry and watched every girl that dared approach him, ensuring all the way that her behaviour wouldn’t seem possessive. It did make sense as well, seeing her as sort of a protective older sister, since she was nearly a year older than him. By the time she seeped her way into all aspects of Harry’s life and the group of the heirs without garnering too much attention, the midterm was approaching fast.

It was on the day before they departed that she sat at the heir’s table and Malfoy declared, “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I desperately need to get somewhere significantly warmer and less English than here during midterm”.

“Less Scottish”, offered Hermione, smiling at him with a sickening sweetness.

“That need to correct everybody seems to be pathological, Mia”, he answered, immediately going on the offense as well, “My family knows some very skilled psychologist that could look into it”.

“Oh, I have no doubt that your family is well acquainted with psychologists”, she shot back, knowing from his expression and the slight quirk of the corner of his mouth that this round had gone in her favour.

“What are we thinking, then?”, Anthony offered, before Malfoy could start their luckily only verbal battles again, “I personally haven’t been to Italy in a while”.

“God no”, interrupted Blaise, “I’ve had my fair share of Italians, it’s getting almost offensively boring to go there” – after a moment he added – “How about Asia. I haven’t been to Vietnam in a while”.

“With good reason”, Anthony, Malfoy and Ernie, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air, shot back at the same time.

It was in that tone that the discussion continued, most destinations being dismissed by somebody or other, because they were bored of it or the travel time was too long for them to bother. Hermione watched the whole exchange with a weird kind of fascination, feeling a bit like an anthropologist that tried to understand the strange customs of an isolated tribe. Harry, after a bit of initial reserve that most likely came from only having joined the rich and beautiful a few months ago, joined the discussion eagerly, throwing out suggestions every now and then.

After about half an hour, in which Hermione noticed that Malfoy had casually taken himself out of the equation to stare at his phone, he joined back in and suggested, “Jordan, how does that sound to everybody?” This suggestion finally was met with more or less eager nods and approving mutters.

“So, are you joining, Mione?”, Harry asked excitedly once the destination had been decided on. The other heirs were only listening with half an ear, already talking about what they could do in Jordan and which people to meet up with. Hermione didn’t take offence at their lack of interest. They probably just assumed she would come along or have better plans for the occasion of their midterm holidays.  Mulling over whether Harry needed her on midterm or not, while he was staring at her with big green puppy eyes, Hermione took a few moments before answering.

Finally, she opted out by answering, “I don’t think my parents’ budget plans included spontaneous midterm trips to the Middle East”. Harry nodded sagely, knowing much better what it was like to not be able to afford something than everything.

However, the topic she had thought was over and done with was picked up by Malfoy, who said, “The reason we’re heading to Jordan is because I have to take care of some company business”. Hermione raised an eyebrow at that unnecessary input, wondering what the hell the brat was going on about.

“Seeing as I give up my holidays to do this, the company will gladly cover the stay for _all of us_ ”. That left her effectively speechless and also without any excuse. It also left her disgruntled at that fact, because she had planned on a calm midterm spent with a bunch of books. She had wanted it to be a call-back to how her life was supposed to be without the heir craziness around her.

She told Ginny as much in the evening, when they sat in front of the fireplace curled up with some hot cocoa.

“Can we make sure I got this right?”, the redhead begged, her forehead scrunched up, “The heirs, a group of people you chose to become a part of and that you’ve spent a significant amount of time with, have decided to take you with them to Jordan, all expenses covered. And you are unhappy about that, because you’d rather stay in your empty house in London, which is bloody cold and rainy and gloomy at the moment”. Hermione shrugged, picking up that Ginny was taken aback by that.

“I just want a break from the craziness”, she muttered, blushing slightly. It didn’t help that she had never told her friend about the deal she had made with Malfoy. To her it really did look like Hermione had just decided to become friends with a group of people she used to avoid like the black death.

Ginny groaned deeply and then stated resolutely, “You’re not going to backtrack now, Hermione. Not when you’re finally doing something in your teenage years besides studying for a job that you will have for the next forty years anyway”. With that she reached out for the phone on the coffee table in front of them and thrust it at Hermione.

Grasping at straws, Hermione retired to her room and called up her mum, hoping that she had suddenly become the kind of mum that refused to trust her daughter. Or maybe she was lucky and her dad had suddenly come to the conclusion that all teenage boys were pigs and couldn’t be trusted with his precious princess, and certainly not in a foreign country. Fat chance of that happening.

“Hiya, mum”, she smiled at her mother as soon as her face time call was answered. Her mother’s face was lit up with a happy, gentle expression as it was so often.

“Hello, sweety, I didn’t think I’d hear from you before tomorrow”.

Hermione physically crossed her fingers, albeit out of sight of the camera, before she stated, “Well, there’s something that’s come up, mum. See, some of my friends” – she was startled at how easily that word crossed her lips, “are going to Jordan for midterm and they asked me to join”.

“Oh, that sounds great”, her mother smiled, but her bright smile was slightly clouded, “I’m not sure we can afford that though, sweetheart”. There it was, Hermione thought. Her out. She could just pretend that her mum didn’t let her. But it didn’t feel right to put the blame on her mum’s shoulders.

So, instead, she muttered, “Um, the expenses will all be covered by one of the boy’s company”. “That’s great then”, her mum exclaimed, visibly relaxing, “Who are those friends you’re going with anyway?” Hermione shrugged and rattled down the list of the heirs, which was met with nothing more than an acknowledging smile from her mother. After a few more minutes of conversation, her mum wished her a nice time in Jordan and ended the call to get to her yoga class on time.

After sending Harry a quick text that she would join them, Hermione spend the evening packing her stuff together and doing the most typically Hermione thing she could think of before a trip. She cozied up with her laptop and researched all she could about Jordan and the hotel they would be staying at. The next morning, she put her luggage outside her room, so that the school employees could pick it up and went to breakfast as early as ever. She settled in her usual place, opposite of Malfoy, who was making notes on a folder laying in front of him. To her honest surprise, she was only halfway through her first cup of tea, when the other heirs came to join them. Usually, her fragile armistice with the brat had to last at least half an hour, before anybody else decided to show up. But now she was surprisingly joined by all four of the heirs, Harry sitting down next to her and Ernie sitting on her other side, in the spot that was usually left empty, because Ernie was hardly ever around. There was relative silence at first, everybody concentrating on actually waking up in their own way.

Only when Ginny walked up to their table did some motion come into the group.

“I have to say goodbye now, still haven’t packed”, she explained at Hermione’s raised eyebrow.

Then she embraced Hermione closely and whispered, “I want to hear a metric shit-ton of gossip, when you’re back”.

“Wouldn’t you like to join us, Ginevra?”, Blaise asked, his voice dark and smooth, not in a morning voice way, but just plain sexy. Usual Blaise-mode.

“In your dreams, Blaise”, the redhead shot back, although she couldn’t hide the colour rising in her cheeks which mildly clashed with her hair.

Blaise chuckled at that and then replied, “Every night, Ginevra”. Ginny blushed some more at that and rushed out of the hall, but not without stopping by Dean and making sure to kiss him in front of everyone who cared to watch. The worst womanizer of the heirs had watched and just smiled to himself, obviously pleased with himself. She considered reprimanding Blaise, but then thought better of it, going back to her breakfast. Some time later, when they had all finished their food, Malfoy got up and left the hall, assuming that the others would follow him. Which they did of course. Outside, they were greeted by a limousine that surprisingly wasn’t marked with the Malfoy family crest. Hermione wasn’t sure if it surprised her or not that the driver didn’t take them to Aberdeen airport, but to a private airfield close by instead.

“Um, Hermione”, Harry whispered, as he walked next to her, trying to stroll to the plain as casually as his friends but failing miserably. Hermione just made a sound of acknowledgement as she took in the situation, she was currently in. The pilot stood at the foot of the train and greeted all the heirs with a broad smile, asking about how they’d been and then disappeared into the cockpit.

“I’ve sort of never been on a plane before”, Harry muttered as Hermione took the first step onto the plane. At that she finally turned to look at him and saw the blush on his pale cheeks that reached all the way to his neck.

“It’s the safest mode of transportation there is, Harry”, she assured him with a gentle smile, reminded once again of just how different Harry was from the rest of their school. Anthony pitched in and shouted,

“Hey, Harry, remember that game that I used to kick your ass in as a six-year-old?”

“I remember the game _I_ obliterated _you_ in, if you mean that”, Harry shouted back, already making his way back.

“You wish”, Anthony laughed and then winked at Hermione, proofing what she had assumed, namely that he knew he was distracting Harry with that. It didn’t take long for them to get clearance and then they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, posted the wrong chapter


	8. Africa

Seeing as Harry was busy hanging out with Anthony and Ernie, Hermione took it as a sign that she could get to the vacationing part of her holidays. As soon as they had taken to the air, Hermione kicked off her shoes, grabbed a book from her bag and cuddled into her chair, much more comfortably than she could have ever been flying coach on a public plane. When a flight attendant came by and offered her some snacks and some champagne, Hermione took a packet of crisps thankfully and made a solemn promise to herself. She was here and she would be living this ridiculous life for a week. People that saw her would assume instantly that just like the boys, she was an heiress to some company and that she had a trust-fund bigger than what most people earned in their whole adult life. Knowing that, Hermione decided she might as well enjoy herself. Although it was inherently wrong that she got to live this lifestyle, if even just for a week, because it was built on the backs of thousands of people, who were not paid a living wage in their capitalist system. With that resolution in mind, the seven-hour flight passed quickly and before Hermione knew it, their pilot was announcing that would be landing in Amman shortly. The second they got of the plane, Hermione could see everybody relax. The tension of school and the frigid Scotland temperatures seemed to melt from the whole group and even Malfoy was wearing something akin to a pleasant smile as he they met the hotels driver.

As they made their way through the relatively dark streets of Amman, Hermione was immensely glad that the darkened windows couldn’t stop her from looking out at the world. She absorbed every bit of architecture and the people walking around, immediately eager to read up on the city some more, realising that she hadn’t had nearly enough time to prepare for this trip.

“I’d love to know what the water situation is like here”, Hermione wondered out loud, voicing the first thought that came to mind as the red stone houses slowly faded to desert. This was met by a chuckle from Harry, Blaise and Ernie.

Anthony, however, helpfully provided, “It’s about 97% access, which is by far the highest in North African standards”.

“Doesn’t help much, when they don’t have enough water altogether”, Malfoy sighed, as he looked out at the country side as well. If she didn’t know him any better, she would have said that the brat had a soft spot for this very country. As it were, there was probably good business to be made here. Which was the whole reason they had a chance to be here in the first place, as far as Hermione could tell. Some business for Malfoy Incorporated. Whatever that meant.

When, about an hour later, they finally reached the hotel, Hermione found herself almost disappointed. Sure, they had seen mostly desert around them, but she had still soaked it all up eagerly. Her life had never taken her beyond Europe so far and even there, it had never taken her south. Dry was pretty much a foreign concept for her. The forecourt they pulled into was so obviously fancy that Hermione immediately felt out of her depth and gladly fell behind the others, basically trying to melt in with Blaise’s shadow, as a man that Hermione could only assume was the hotel manager greeted them. The man, a relatively tall local that looked to be in his forties greeted Malfoy in such a submissive stance that Hermione couldn’t help but to cringe and roll her eyes. After they had gone through quick introductions and Malfoy had declined the golfcart they had been offered, the whole group made to enter the actual main building of the hotel. It was instantly breathtaking she found, taking in the gorgeous mosaic ceilings and the red sand stone floors that spread the length of the foyer. Towards the other end of the open room, she was faced with a whole front of glass, some windows and some doors and beyond it, she could see the dark mass that was the dead sea. Her eyes trailed the intricate patterns in the mosaics. They looked almost like water in how they fit together perfectly. It looked like she had been whisked away right into the middle of one of the stories in 1001 nights.

Her uncharacteristically dreamy train of thought was disturbed by a voice asking, “Are you coming, Mia?” Hermione tuned back in to find that it was Blaise who had lingered behind the rest of the group and was waiting for her.

“Are you back in our universe?”, he chuckled, his voice smooth like chocolate once again. With the added hardship of seeing Blaise in an exotic place like this, she couldn’t help the small amount of colour that rose to her cheeks at being addressed by the womanizer. Sue her for only being a girl attracted to guys at the end of the day, because no matter how used she already was to Blaise’s antics, he still had that magic touch with anybody really.

“What did I miss?”, she asked sheepishly once she had caught up with Blaise and he started walking with absolute certainty.

“Just the usual”, Blaise grinned at her, “Praises to Draco and his parents, inquires about our folks and the assurance that we had the best rooms in the house and full access to the spa”. Hermione looked at him in astonishment at that. Sure, these were the heirs she was travelling with, but surely there must be somebody more important in the hotel that would get the best room. Surely there were some limits there.

“He also asked who you were married to out of the five of us”, Blaise added. At that she choked on her own spit for a moment, staring at him in disbelieve.

“I beg your pardon!”, she squeaked, her voice unnaturally high. After a moment of sorting through the initial shock, she sorted through her thoughts and reminded herself that, at the moment, she was in a muslim monarchy in the middle east and platonic relationships between different genders were probably not the norm.

“I guess that makes sense. Please tell me you said I was married to somebody who wasn’t here and instead Harry’s sister or something”, she groaned, trying to rationalise.

“Oh”, Blaise’s face fell, “That would have been a smart move”. Hermione could only groan, much more loudly this time, and think through which person was the worst option. God, she hoped they hadn’t picked Harry. He was already way too attached to her.

“Mia”, Blaise called to her, touching her arm gently. He sounded downright apologetic, so she tried no to be a bitch and looked up at him once again. And he was grinning. How dare he grin at her misery. “Mia”, he started again, when she stared daggers at him, “I’m just taking the piss”.

The balled up dread released instantly at that and she was very much torn between punching Blaise in the face and kissing him out of relieve.

“Blaise Zabini, you absolute prick!”, she screamed, like a harpy with little regard to the people occupying the rooms around them. She slapped his arm repeatedly, while what her victim was doing could only be described as giggling in delight at his little prank. It was that picture their friends saw, when they opened the door to their suite, wondering what took them so long.

“What the hell”, Ernie muttered, effectively startling them out of what they were doing. Blaise ignored that and just entered the suite straight away, Hermione following suit.

“God, you should have seen your face, Mia”, he went on, as he threw himself onto the sofa, somehow still managing to stay elegant through it all, “Entertainment for days”. She just huffed in indignation, still slightly annoyed at him, but more so at having to admit that it was funny. The only benefit of Blaise’s prank was that she was so busy being miffed that she couldn’t remember to feel out of place in the gigantic suite they were staying in. She just asked which room was hers and proceeded to check it out quickly, before following the others onto the extensive balcony that apparently also belonged to their apartment.

She finally decided to leave her grudge, when Blaise handed her a drink and a plate with some Jordanian appetizers as an apology.

“Forgive me?”, he asked, his eyes sweet and puppy like, which she knew he was fully aware of.

“This one time”, she agreed, while taking a sip of her drink. It tasted mostly of wonderfully fresh pomegranate juice, a Jordanian speciality, at least according to her haphazard research from the day before, but also of something that definitely wasn’t halal. For once, she also decided to let that go, although her brain immediately started to go through all the papers she had read on the long term effects of drinking on adolescent brains. She sent a text to her mum to tell her that she had arrived safely in, what she could only assume, was some pre-stage to paradise, and then went back to nursing her drink. All the while, she let her gaze fly over the dead sea that was spread in front of them and the lights of Israel on the distant other shore. She was left to do so in peace, while still somehow staying included in the conversation, so she could join back in at any time. They were served dinner, something traditional as well, apparently the national dish, and enjoyed a calm evening and some hours later, she fell into her bed, dead to the world.

When she woke up the next day, it was long past her usual wake-up time, and she was the only one left in the apartment. However, she had been left with a key card to the room and a note from Harry.

_In the gym with Blaise. Anthony and Ernie are away and Draco’s working. Draco sees feel free to do whatever around the hotel._ After she had read that, Hermione shrugged and considered her options. Putting on some clothes that were more acceptable than her pyjamas, she left the room and made her way to the reception, where a woman was standing, looking very professional and put together. “Excuse me”, Hermione addressed her tentatively, not sure how to go about the whole five star hotel thing.

“Miss Granger”, the receptionist smiled at her, “How can I help you?” It took her a moment to get over the fact that the random hotel employee knew her name. Did that mean that every person in the hotel knew her name? Was that what travelling with the heirs meant?

“I was, uh, wondering about the spa”, Hermione started out awkwardly. A day of just getting pampered sounded like heaven and if it really was free of charge...Well, not really free of charge she supposed, or maybe it actually was complementary.

“If you want to visit the spa, just take the elevator to the spa level and enter with your card”, she receptionist started out smiling brightly, “There are also masseurs and cosmeticians at your disposal. Please feel free to make use of them”. Hermione nodded still taken aback. She couldn’t help wondering if this was five-star superior treatment or Malfoy treatment, but either way it made her feel weirdly out of place. That feeling was forgotten, as soon as she got a massage in the spa, the talented masseuse melting the tension she didn’t know was in her and her every worry away.

She spent the day being pampered by a whole lot of people and had dinner with the boys, minus Ernie and Malfoy in the evening and her next to days were spent much in the same way. On Tuesday, the boys had decided that they would visit Petra and Hermione made no qualms at that at all. The ancient city and the treasury had been on her mind the minute the boys had first mentioned Jordan and she was prepared to be enchanted by the country again. It took them approximately three hours to get there and a good amount of time on foot to get to the actual treasury. However, the second Hermione first laid her eyes on it she was in love. Permanently and irrevocably she had fallen in love with Jordan and although the others might have not been exactly as excited as her, they still looked more than happy to be there. There was a bunch of people in Petra, but not a staggering amount, which left them with a gorgeously clear view of the whole thing. Despite Malfoy’s sigh of protest, they even ended up doing the touristy things like going on the back of a camel and riding up a mountain on a donkey. Hermione however drew the line at going on horseback to ride back to where their driver had parked. The thought alone of sitting on an animal that she had no control over filled her with excruciating anxiety and the boys let it go. They even stopped for some street food style shawarma on the street rather than having the fancy hotel food. It almost made Hermione feel like she was with normal people again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are with a staple in the realm of tropes - an exotic vacation for no reason whatsoever


	9. That's What Friends Are For

It was on Wednesday that Hermione discovered a gorgeous reading room in the hotel that she spent the whole day in, having food sent to her so that she could read in some peace and quiet. It was like a faint call-back to what her midterm holidays usually looked like and she enjoyed it immensely, although the light coming through the windows wasn’t the muted grey of rainy October days in London, but rather a bright yellow from the sun still going strong in the Middle east. It was also because of her discovery of that reading room and her proceeding to spend almost two entire days in there that when she came back to the suite in the early Thursday evening, she had no idea why the mood was so depressing. Rather than the carefree chatter she had enjoyed the last few days, she was faced with everybody walking around as if on eggshells. Anthony sat next to Draco, talking in hushed whispers, but getting as much response from him as he would have from a dry wall. Blaise was in the corner talking on the phone just as quietly, which was incredibly strange, because the young black man’s voice was meant for boastingly filling up the whole room, rather than quietly talking into the phone to somebody or other. Worst of all was Harry, who just looked miserable and lost in all this darkness. She watched the tension rise with morbid fascination, until finally the brat snapped. It wasn’t _much_ of a snap for a lack of shouting and throwing punches. But Malfoy got up in one very swift motion and then left through the door that gave them direct access to the rapidly darkening outside.

“What did I miss?”, Hermione asked carefully, once she was sure she could break the silence.

“No idea”, Harry provided, once again in his seemingly default lost puppy setting, “Draco came back from some business thing and was in a bloody horrible mood”. There were hums of agreement from both Blaise and Anthony at that. That at least cleared up some of the situation to her. If she were to guess, she would have said, that Anthony had tried to coax the brat into talking and Blaise had called somebody that might know what had gone down.

“Isn’t he usually the kind to just blow off steam on his own?”, she then quietly suggested, remembering the instances at the beginning of the school year, where she had encountered Malfoy separately from the group and he had always seemed sourer than on the average day.

“Well”, Blaise started out, paused, and then added, “Yeah, I guess”. That was the last words spoken on that theme, because soon after Ernie came around and suggested going to Amman to some restaurant that apparently had “the best fucking food in the world”. Hermione let herself be swept along, remembering once again her resolution on the plane.

Several hours later, when they came home around midnight, all of them slightly tipsy although some more than others, Hermione had nearly forgotten that there had ever been an issue with the brat at all. While the others settled in the lounge to continue the drinking in conjunction with some games that Hermione definitely didn’t want to play with any of them, she found herself making her way to the roof terrace that gave the beautiful view of the dead sea they had spent their first evening on. Leaning on the rail, she took in a deep breath of the cool, but not freezing dry air, sorting through her thoughts and trying to figure out how she felt right now. Relaxed and giddy, she thought. And guilty, because she played along so well. Then her eyes caught onto a slightly darker shadow down at the beach and suddenly she remembered the episode before with the brat. Somehow, she had just assumed that he had calmed down and gone to his room. Or that he had sought out comfort in one of the numerous pretty girls that had batted their long, thick eyelashes at him.

In hind side, she never could figure out, why exactly. But at that moment, ridden by guilt because she was making herself fit in this brat life style so easily, Hermione decided that at least she could fully play the part of the heiress. She left the roof terrace to go to the beach, but not without stopping at the bar first to get a bottle of rum and two glasses, because that felt like the kind of thing an heiress would do to comfort Draco Malfoy. At least that seemed like the only thing this alternate reality person would do that both Hermione and the brat would be comfortable with. With more conviction than she actually felt, she went to Malfoy’s side, simply plonking down on the love seat next to him. “You are literally the last person I expected”, he chuckled, his voice devoid of humour, when Hermione didn’t speak first. Even after that statement, which was basically an open invitation to another verbal stand-off, Hermione didn’t say anything. Instead she settled for opening the bottle of rum and pouring Malfoy a drink before pouring herself a much less generous one. Still without speaking, she held the glass in front of his face, waiting for him to take it. After a second of hesitation he did and when he took a first taste, so did Hermione.

They sat there for a while like that, the bottle sitting in the empty space between them so they could freshen up their drinks every once in a while. The silence, surprisingly, didn’t feel like anything. It didn’t feel angrily charged or awkward, didn’t make Hermione desperate to get out. There was just a mutual understanding that it was better for them to stay quiet, stare out at the sea and drink, although Hermione kept the actual drinking part to a minimum. Eventually, however, she felt like she had to ask. Even if she was just trying to be this extra person for this one week, she felt like trust-fund Hermione would still ask what the hell had happened.

“So…”, she started out, not sure how to address things, when the brat’s actual best friends had failed to get anything out of him. Why in the world had she thought to do this? After a minute of this time properly awkward silence, Malfoy asked, “Is there anything more coming or could your brain just not cope with not talking anymore?” It was a pretty typical attack, but the bite was missing. The arrogance to his tone that made Hermione want to claw at his face like a vicious animal.

“What happened?”, she finally wondered without any further ado. She didn’t even try to hide behind sarcasm or a biting remark or a hilarious effort at sounding concerned. All she did was sound intrigued as to the sudden change and that was really all it was. Malfoy huffed a weird sort of laugh and then, to her honest surprise, answered.

“I didn’t only come here to represent my father on company business”, he started out, still sternly looking at the sea, “I have my own business venture here, in the middle east. Nothing great as of yet, but a few hundred people, who work in different branches doing consulting”. She didn’t say anything, just hummed to make him continue and indicate she was still listening.

“It went well the first year, and then, at the beginning of this quarter it suddenly didn’t”, he sighed, “I tried my best to keep the business alive, that’s what I’ve been doing the last days. But, alas” – at this he chuckled once again, even more devoid of humour, but instead filled with bitterness – “we’re not turning profit and before I can _ruin myself_ as according to my father, LMC will take it over”. At first, Hermione was taken aback by this explanation. She didn’t have much of a head for business, but still this seemed like a smooth way to get out of a sticky situation. And it seemed like a ridiculous thing to get so upset about.

However, she uttered the first bit of understanding she could muster, “It’s a matter of pride then” – she mused for a second longer – “It must be difficult to fail a business as the heir to the Malfoy Group”.

Malfoy chortled, glanced at her and frowned, “That is the understatement of the year, Mia”. She supposed that was fair. As much as she despised how the kids at her school and especially the heirs behaved and how privileged they were, she couldn’t deny that they’d grown up with a set of expectations she never had and probably wouldn’t know how to deal with.

“However”, the brat started up again, when Hermione had expected him to stay silent until she left, “I don’t care too much about that part. No sense in pretending I have any pride when it comes to my father”.

“Hm”, was all Hermione could say, not sure how to react in any other way. Then, quite suddenly, Malfoy chugged his glass and threw the nice crystal against the next love seat on the beach so that it shattered dramatically.

“There were 367 people involved in this venture”, he explained through gritted teeth, now having turned around and staring directly at her, “Each of those 367 people handpicked by me, recruited from other well-paying jobs partly, dependend on me. And now, when they’re swallowed up, there’s no way they’ll all be taken on”. Hermione answered with a distressed sound. Now this, she could understand; this, she could emphasize with. She was used to responsibility, always had been. And she hated nothing more in the world than letting people down, than that horrible feeling of having failed others.

“Make sure they’ll be taken on, then”, she answered, staring back at Malfoy seriously.

“Excuse me?”, he asked, the usual bite still missing.

“You fucked up, so make your case for them. All 367”, she demanded. Then, because she felt like she had to kickstart this somehow, she took the bottle of rum out of his hand, turned on the heel and made for the hotel again. As soon as she had reached her room, she collapsed into bed, now properly drunk after the drinks at dinner and the rum after. When on the next morning she joined the other heirs, she wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or disappointed or feel nothing at all at Malfoy not being back. For all she knew, he was still sitting on that same love seat and staring at the sea.

As she took some toast and fresh fruit to nibble on from the large buffet in their kitchen, Anthony spoke up, “Draco wanted me to tell everybody, that he had to leave early to have some conversation with his father” – Hermione raised an eyebrow at that, thinking she knew exactly what those conversations would be about – “But our trip continues as planned”. And so it was done. They spent there last one and half days in Wadi Rum, before they headed back on Saturday. For breakfast on Sunday morning, Hermione went downstairs and found Malfoy sitting there as usual. Their casual morning silence was kept and later, when the others came to join, the bickering started again. _Welcome back to school,_ Hermione thought to herself. But she couldn’t help a little smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that I will take a small break starting friday. The next chapter will be up on the 22nd


	10. Roll With It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an idiot and messed up. In other news, I added a chapter at the very start of the story that I somehow managed to forget, please read it at your leisure. (There's some classic Dramione bants in there)

Somehow, the second half of the term past even faster than the first half. Within the first few days of the new semester the first snow fell and then, almost immediately, they found themselves surrounded by snow. Between preparation for her A-levels, duties as head girl and still baby-sitting Harry, while also getting in some time with her long-time friends at the academy, Hermione found herself waking up to the last day of school for the year. When she got down to breakfast and sat in her usual spot, she found that, despite the early hour, the room was particularly full. There were clusters of students, who were rushing their breakfast so they could get some last-minute gifts in Hogsmeade before taking the train to London.

“Good morning, Mione”, Harry greeted her, a bright, sleepy smile on his face, as on most days. On most days he also left her alone to her newspaper and didn’t address her before she had at least one cup of tea, but this day he didn’t seem to care about the risk of talking to her before sufficient caffeination.

“So, what are your plans for the Christmas vacation while here?”, he asked so loudly that probably half the room could hear it, although it was bustling with noise. Hermione suspiciously looked up from her newspaper at him and found that, surprisingly, the whole crew was present at the table.

“You aren’t going home for Christmas, Mia?”, Ernie asked, sounding genuinely astonished. Hermione herself was more astonished at his general presence at the table, but only huffed as an answer first.

After another gulp of tea, she provided, “My parents have finally saved up enough money for their Australia trip and are taking it now, so it would only be an empty house welcoming me in London”.

Harry’s grin broadened significantly at that, which was weird, because he had already known. Hermione distinctly remembered telling him about two weeks earlier.

“Well”, he started out, his grin getting even wider somehow, “You can spend Christmas with Draco then, he’s staying as well”. Hermione rolled her eyes at that and found that the brat looked about as enticed by that idea as her. Harry’s intention of making them get along was of course sweet, but, Jesus Christ, they had both made it abundantly clear that they weren’t interested in forming a friendship. They already struggled with basic civility.

“Don’t take offence, Harry, but dealing with another case of severe Hero’s complex doesn’t seem like a particularly appealing way to spend Christmas day”, the afore mentioned brat sighed, only glancing at Harry, before, as always retuning to work on his tablet.

“Maybe my hero’s complex would help balance out some of your self-centredness”, Hermione shot back immediately, keeping her voice cool and poignant. Blaise, in reaction, let out a roar of laughter that filled the whole room easily, making people focus their attention on their table. Which in turn made Hermione want to leave immediately to escape the scrutiny of it all.

“And feeing the need to show oneself as a hero on any occasion does not qualify as self-centredness?”, the brat taunted delicately, all the while still not looking up.

“Ah, yes, of course, _I_ am the one at fault”, Hermione groaned, feeling herself get lightly more frustrated, “I would be. After all that’s what you do, isn’t it?” – she made a dramatic pause – “Looking at somebody who has the same fault as you but tries to better themselves and then tell everybody that they are fooling themselves”. She was quite satisfied with that response, but only found herself getting angrier, when she saw Malfoy’s perfectly straight face.

“Contending yourself with being better than somebody else and ignoring your own demons”, the brat mused nonchalantly, “That is what _you_ do, isn’t it?”

Hermione was just about to go at it some more, when Harry quite literally put himself between them and desperately requested, “Ok, can we please stop the fighting?”

Knowing that there was no use in it anyway, Hermione swallowed down the response she had had on her lips, while the brat chuckled, “Who’s fighting?”

He gave a smirk to Hermione and then a much gentler smile to Harry, “Fighting about things that cannot be changed is beneath me” – he paused – “However I am not opposed to uttering my displeasure”. In that moment she really considered slapping the eloquence right out of his stupidly handsome face. But, alas, she tried to stay away from violence at the best of times and in the middle of a well-filled Great Hall was definitely not the best of times. She nearly felt sorry about that exchange, when she glanced to the side and so Harry pouting a storm at how his suggestion had been met. She still returned to her breakfast in peace though, finally finishing her cup of tea and the article she had been reading in the newspaper.

However, Harry was apparently not done, because half an hour later, when he stood up from the breakfast table, he declared, “Seeing as you are left here basically alone, you’ll have plenty of time to finally sort out your differences”.

The brat rolled his eyes at Harry’s ridiculous need for harmony and for once, Hermione was inclined to agree with him. She understood where he was coming from of course, considering how he had grown up in such traumatizing circumstances, but she still feared that she and his best friend were a hopeless case. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger would most likely never get along. They were just too different.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Harry”, Anthony spoke exactly what Hermione had just thought, “They will never get along”. Hermione found herself nodding along, thinking that Ravenclaws really had a perceptive realism to them she quite enjoyed.

Then Anthony added, “They are just too similar”. She stopped nodding along abruptly and whipped around to stare at him, seeing out of the corner of her eye that unfortunately the brat had reacted in the same way, therefore definitely helping to prove how ridiculous that claim was.

“Somebody please take a photo of that”, Blaise laughed, earning some hearty chuckles from the whole table, safe Malfoy and her, who were both more than displeased.

After that little scene, she found herself saying goodbye to most of the heirs. Blaise gave her a quite surprising bear hug, enveloping her in his long limbs, while Anthony just gave her a quick hug and wished her a merry Christmas. Ernie, as so often, disappeared before anybody could say anything to him.

Harry, of course, hugged her even more tightly than Blaise and whispered into the embrace, that she happily leaned into for the sheer sake of comfort, “Try, hm”.

He pulled away a bit, still holding her by the arms, “Just for me. Try to get along with him”. When he finally stepped away, she just gave him a weak smile and wished him a merry Christmas. With that Harry left together with the rest of the bunch and most of the people in the Great Hall, leaving Hermione with the brat.

Before finally returning to her newspaper, she felt the need to state, “We are nothing alike, brat”. “I couldn’t agree more”, he muttered, before leaving them both to utter silence.

Upon returning to her common room after a very drawn out breakfast, Hermione realized that it was almost completely empty, except for two lower sixth-formers, who were hogging the fire place. She had never spent Christmas at Hogwarts, but a quick check of the list of people staying that she had amidst her other documents she found that she could count them on her hands. Most of the students either went home that they hadn’t died of a drug overdose just yet or fly somewhere to an island that was much warmer than any part of the United Kingdom could be in December. Not unlike she had done just some weeks ago, the second part at least. Hermione usually went home for Christmas too, because she actually loved her family, but fearing that her parents would push their long-wanted vacation even further out, she had assured them that she needed all the time to study and wouldn’t be sociable anyway. With the Academy so empty, she enjoyed the silence immensely. For about four hours. It appeared that, although Hermione enjoyed her solitude, she usually did so with people still around her. The realization of what that meant hit her when she sat down for lunch and noted that the only person she actually knew, who was still in house, was Draco Malfoy.

“Brat”, she groaned, sitting down opposite of him as always. God only knew, why she had decided to sit opposite him, where she had to see his annoyingly smug face all the time, in the first place.

“Why are you actually here?”, she found herself sighing, just to fill the hall with a bit more noise.

To her surprise, rather than muttering a response while still staring at his portfolio, he put it to the side and answered, “There is nobody waiting for me at home”. That made sense, she supposed. His father led one of the most important business groups in the world and his mother was busy being a socialite and head of the Hogwarts Board. A calm Christmas with the family probably wasn’t high on their list of priorities.

With Malfoy making no attempts at continuing this conversation, she harrumphed and suggested, “What about a peace treaty?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow at that, still looking at her intently, which she somehow disliked even more than him always staring at his papers or tablet and stayed silent for so long that Hermione started to regret ever having brought it up. Why had she ever given him the upper hand?

But then, finally, Malfoy deemed it appropriate to answer and with a glance to his watch answered, “We seemed to clearly agree on that matter about four hours ago. What changed?” She felt heat creep up her neck, which, for once, wasn’t because of frustration, but rather embarrassment.

“Hogwarts is quite empty, don’t you think?”, she muttered, unable to meet his eyes, “I mean, it’s just…” Hermione didn’t finish that thought, not sure what she even planned to say.

After another long pause, Malfoy chuckled, and it didn’t seem ingenuine. Actually, he seemed quite amused and not in a cynical way. Maybe in a slightly melancholy way.

“I appreciate that Christmas alone must be quite depressing, when one is used to having loving family members all around”, he harrumphed, sounding extremely eloquent in a way that didn’t fit the surprisingly genuine tone of their conversation.

Then, in a much more casual tone he added, “I wouldn’t know, but it seems that way at least”. Hermione just nodded briskly, unable to speak at the moment, because of the sheer embarrassment of it all.

“What if we spent Christmas Day together?”, he then suggested.

There was a wave of relief washing over her that she could have sworn she would never feel at the prospect of spending time together with the brat, but still, she couldn’t help at least one snide remark, “So suddenly it isn’t beneath you to spend Christmas with somebody with a hero’s complex?”

“Call it charity work, Mia”, he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from my mini hiatus with a treat  
> Also, we are nearing the end of my pre-written chapters, so, realistically, I'm gonna have to reduce to posting once a week.


	11. Money For Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, just wanted to remind you that there is now an added chapter towards the beginning of the story, cause I'm a dumbass who forgot it before

The charity work, as it were, didn’t start on Christmas Eve, as one might have thought. It was fine though, because Hermione found herself talking to her parents and then skyping with the whole Weasley bunch. Ginny was a bit miffed that Hermione had rejected her offer to spend Christmas at the Burrow in place of a very empty Hogwarts, but it only took Ronald awkwardly interrupting to remind the pretty redhead of exactly why her friend had acted that particular way. Rather than having the Christmas Eve dinner that would be served in the minor hall, she made her way to Hogsmeade, getting some Indian take-out from the local Waitrose and then had a quiet evening, watching _Love, Actually_ and some other Christmas classics. When she woke up the next day to a small pile of Christmas, she couldn’t help a bit of giddiness at the prospect of unpacking them. No matter how shocking the thought of the school personal coming into her room to bring in presents while she was sleeping had been in the beginning, she had to admit by now that it preserved some of the childish glee that was usually lost, when one got older. It was therefore with considerable joy that she sat on the floor in her pyjamas, digging into presents she already knew what they were. There were big presents from her parents and her grandparents, because, well, she was an only child, if only to dentists. Ginny and Harry had also both splurged on her, apparently. Harry, she assumed, because he had the financial savvy of a toddler. To her delight, there were some smaller presents from most of the Weasleys – including the classic Molly Weasley Christmas jumper – and even more surprisingly, one parcel from each of the heirs.

Hermione was happy and downright jolly, until she remembered that for some reason, she had decided to spend the day with Draco Malfoy of all people, which was a decision she attributed to what had probably been a mild stroke the day before. Unfortunately, that apparent stroke hadn’t changed anything about her personality, which made her keep her word; even more so, because the brat had been doing her a favour and even on her worst days, she couldn’t just ignore that. So, rather than curling up in her room, she slipped on a pair of comfortable, well worn-in jeans and her Hogwarts hoodie. Somehow, she thought, as she left her house, she felt oddly excited to spend the day with the brat to end all brats. It was probably the Christmas spirit mixed with some genuine curiosity as to how they would end up spending the day. Maybe it would just be comfortably spent on some couch watching movies, although Hermione doubted it. She could be talked into a day outside as well, seeing as it was a nicely sunny, if freezing day. By the time she had reached their usual table, where the brat was already seated, she had resigned herself to just go along with whatever Malfoy had planned.

Except for a minimal amount of waiting staff, the hall was completely empty, and Hermione sat herself awkwardly opposite Malfoy. Wordlessly, she took the cup of tea that already stood at her place and began to read her newspaper, wondering whether the brat had ordered it for her or whether the waitstaff was just even more observant than she gave them credit for. At some point after she had finished her first cup without further pondering, she took note of the brat’s outfit. He looked, well, exceptionally nice. It wasn’t even that his clothes looked that much fancier than his average style, although she was afraid to even think about how much his dark brown trousers, crisp white shirt and champagne cashmere jumper had cost. More than that, he looked more relaxed than on usual. Her pondering was however rudely interrupted by Malfoy groaning, “Are you wearing your _school jumper?”_ Impressively, Hermione could basically hear the italics in that sentence. She was also faced with the brat’s unique talent of making people feel like complete and utter fools over the most mundane things, so she muttered, “It’s comfortable”. She would have loved to sound more defiant but having just remarked how smart the brat’s outfit was, she felt awkwardly guilty. Once she dared duck up from her paper, she saw that Malfoy looked more than displeased as he frowned, “I know this arrangement isn’t ideal, but I thought we had an agreement” – he paused, standing up – “Would it have killed you to try?” At this, in combination with his glance over her attire, she blushed fiercely, feeling a weird combination of shame, anger and more awkwardness.

To her surprise, after that Malfoy just left the hall and she found herself following after him. “Come on, Malfoy”, she panted, as she tried to keep up with his purposefully long strides, “My clothes were not _actually_ meant to be a personal offense to you”. The brat didn’t react to her and just marched on instead, but after a few turns, she realised that she wasn’t actually blindly following him to his common room or any other place he would sulk in. Instead she seemed to be following him to the Gryffin dorms and to her own door, which he expertly picked out from the others. By now, she was long over the bit of guilt she felt and angrier at the audacity the brat had. He seemed to feel no shame whatsoever as he smoothly opened the door to her room and strode in, heading directly for her closet. She wasn’t even sure what to shout at him for first. For completely disrespecting her privacy maybe? Maybe she should wonder out loud how the bloody hell he knew which room she lived in. Although, she supposed, the undecorated door had been a tip off. However, because she couldn’t decide and didn’t want to just end-up spluttering like a fool, she just waited at her door, fuming.

Finally, looking frustratingly smug, the brat emerged from her closet, triumphantly holding up a grey wool dress and a pair of fake wild leather boots. She recognized both of them as items she had bought on a day she felt particularly good about her looks and then had thrown in the back of her closet, never to be seen again. How had they even got here? Probably, her mother had packed them, with some agenda of making her feel more confident in her physicality, as opposed to just her academic achievements. “Wear this”, the brat commanded, holding the items out for her. “Leave”, she replied with a nod to the door. The Malfoy brat just shrugged, handed her the dress and boots and left the room with another word. With nothing else left to do, Hermione got out of her comfortable Christmas Day outfit and instead put on tights and the dress and boots, feeling uncomfortable and insecure almost immediately. God, even the most supportive mum and the most social awareness couldn’t repair the damage done by stupid little girls and boys in her formative years. Sighing deeply and rolling her shoulders to get out some of the tension that had built there, she left the room, only to find that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen anymore.

She was just about to scream in frustration prematurely, when the brat came out from Lavender Brown’s room, holding a knitted wool cape and suede gloves that she admitted fit his chosen outfit quite well. “Where did you get that from?”, she frowned. The brat shrugged once again, seeing as it was rather obvious, as she had seen him leave another room. “I borrowed it”, he stated, “I can replace it, if you think the owner would be uncomfortable wearing it after you” – he considered it for a moment and then added – “Although I’m not sure if I can find the exact knock-off this is anywhere”. Hermione opened her mouth in protest for a second, but then just took the cape and gloves from his hands, putting both on quite carelessly. She took a step forward but was stopped by him grabbing her shoulders and holding her in place, to which she reacted with the most threatening death glare she could muster. As it turned out however, he had just fixed her cape in place and studied her, just to then sigh and say, “This’ll have to do for now”. She half expected him to march away again, as soon as he let her go, but instead he waited calmly for her to start walking and set the pace. Unfortunately, she was so baffled by that, that she ended up doing nothing at all and instead staying glued to her spot in front of the door staring at him. “Can you not walk in heels?”, he wondered after a while, stroking his hand over his face in what Hermione by now knew was one of his signature moves, “Because if that’s the case, I guess, I’ll settle for those only mildly offensive flat winter boots I saw, seeing as I have made reservations I’d like us to keep”. “I can walk in heels”, she hissed, completely taken by surprise and then rushed by him, leaving him behind for a second, until he of course caught up. Because, to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t great on heels.

They made their way to the school’s entrance together in only slightly tense silence and where met outside by one of the Malfoy family’s Bentleys she by now easily recognized. “Where are we even going, brat?”, she wondered as she settled in the car, “It’s Christmas Day, nothing’s open”. In response he shot her a comically long look, raised an eyebrow ever so slowly, as if to ask if she was really still surprised and then said, “I’m Draco Malfoy. Everything is open to me”. For the sake of some much-needed Christmas harmony, she suppressed the initial need to bash her head into the closest hard surface she could find until she passed out and the next idea to take of her heels and either spectacularly run back to school or poke it right into Malfoy’s eye. Instead, she just resigned herself to the same mindset she had adopted in Jordan. This was a bit of ridiculous privilege. She’d just be Hermione, the heiress, again, for a few hours.

“So, where are we going anyway?”, she wondered, as the car took them out of Hogsmeade onto the highway. “Out”, was the only answer Malfoy provided with a little smirk that told her he knew exactly that that would frustrate her mildly. Hermione chose not to poke further and was somehow not surprised in the slightest, when they took to the same private airfield they had departed from to Jordan, although the plane they took was much smaller. Playing the kind of heiress that would actually spend Christmas Day with the Malfoy brat, she took it all in a stride. By the time they had landed in London, Hermione had resigned herself to just go along fully. How much more ridiculous could it get, really? That, however, wasn’t even a rhetorical question. She truly wondered how absolutely unbelievable Christmas Day could be with one of the richest teenagers in Europe.


	12. Head To Toe

It turned out that Hermione was exactly right with her assumption that it would only get more ridiculous, when, as soon as they had landed, a car took them to a boutique in central London. Hermione recognized it, as one she had walked by several times, always with a safe distance as she distrusted the lack of prize labels on the clothes. She had always felt that the security guys in front of the store looked a whole lot like bouncers that wouldn’t think twice about throwing her out if she dared cross the threshold. With Draco Malfoy at her side, however, and the store obviously specifically opened just for him, it was surprisingly easy to enter a place she had so dreaded before. Still, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Malfoy and wonder, “What in heaven’s name, Malfoy?” – she frowned, as she looked around – “Did you just assume you’d hate my outfit and take precautions?” It was an honest question, not purely an attack, because it seemed entirely too much like the brat to do such a thing. But rather than being his usual blasé self, Malfoy seemed honestly flustered as he explained, “Upon consultation with my, well, our friends, I realized that I was apparently alone in not getting you a present for Christmas. So, I thought that maybe you would find something you like here”. Hermione still stared at him with her eyebrows raised, so he continued, “I thought about getting you books, but I assumed that you got them from everybody, so…” At the so he gestured around him as if to say ergo, clothes. Finally, in a much more Malfoy attitude he added, “And I predicted that you wouldn’t own any appropriate attire anyway, so a make-over seemed long overdue”. That got her out of the uncomfortable spot she was in with the brat actually doing something, well, thoughtful, and prompted a well-rehearsed groan as a reaction.

  
“So, your gift to me is making me look the way you like?”, she asked, staring him down, but obviously not with all her heart in it. Unfortunately, Malfoy was one of the few people Hermione knew that she couldn’t actually stare down, as he simply sneered, “Well, it is a nice restaurant and I thought you’d like to actually feel comfortable there”. Changing from the sneer to a thoughtful frown he mused, “Well, not physically comfortable, I suppose, buy psychologically so”. “Psychologically comfortable”, she repeated slowly, making sure he realised how ridiculous he sounded and glancing to the side, where the store employee was waiting patiently for them to get to the shopping. The shop girl looked entirely too amused by their fight, barely managing to keep her expression neutral and, frankly, Hermione couldn’t blame her. If she weren’t baseline annoyed with every single thing the brat said, did or thought, she might have chuckled herself. In a small fit of Christmas spirit though, Hermione inquired, “Shall we start then?” She pushed the thinly veiled insult back and instead focused on years of watching teenager movies that always seemed to think that a make-over was the first step to infinite happiness. What followed her essentially giving in, was the shop girl offering up outfits, which Hermione stayed close-lipped about, except for one dress that filled her with an urge to throw herself of a small bridge into shallow river. With all the other outfits, either Malfoy declined them straight away with a ridiculously disgusted look that she assumed had died out with the end of the black death, or he dismissed them once Hermione was wearing them, which, admittedly, wasn’t great for her self-esteem. After too much time spent doing that, minus an hour long pause where they had sat outside by the Thames and snacked on some muffins, Hermine finally found herself standing in an outfit approved by the holy trinity of the shop-girl, herself and Draco Malfoy. It consisted of a very poufy, and therefore rather un-Hermione, lined tulle skirt, a cream jumper with three-quarter sleeves, black heels and a light brown, army inspired coat.

  
She stared at herself in the mirror and found that she liked the outfit. And it wasn’t even just the outfit she liked, but the fact that for once her looks had been considered and brought out. Not that she would ever complain about being known for her intellect and personality, but at the end of the day she also liked being pretty. It was infuriating, how much she liked the present. She even caught herself swaying to make her skirt swing like a bell, like Julia Roberts in some kind of Julia Roberts she had seen too many times. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just her, who caught herself, but also Malfoy, which she realised, when his chuckle ripped her out of her thoughts. “Are you done using me as your doll, or do you need to indulge some more?”, Hermione asked, flustered and deciding to go on the offense as per usual. The brat glanced up to meet her eyes from where he was handing his credit card to the shop girl for a moment to retaliate, “Do you want me to use you as a doll in any further capacity?” Under the commonly cool demeanour, she could clearly catch the amusement at his own joke. She chortled in response and mused, “I didn’t think you had indulged in that kind of experience with dolls, but desperate measures, I suppose” – she smirked – “But I rather thought that maybe poor little baby Draco wanted nothing more than to play with Barbie dolls and his conservative mummy didn’t let him”. “I played with whatever I wanted”, he mused, in return, giving the shop girl a once over, before making a point to smile slowly at her, “And I’m afraid I’ve never known the need for desperate measures, Mia”. Hermione didn’t need to see the shop girl swoon over the brat like he was some bloody knight in shining armour to prove his point, but it did certainly frame his victory in this little argument beautifully.

  
Once the shop girl had returned his credit card to him, the brat declared, “And now we have a reservation to make”. With the girl having handed her a scarf and gloves that they had also bought, Hermione followed Malfoy outside into, what she realised, was the typical wet and foggy London winter that she sometimes missed. Hogwarts, of course, being in Scotland was always covered in pristine white snow from November to March, but there was a certain atmospheric beauty to London that she longed to return to. Taking a picture in her mind and tugging it away for later purposes of nostalgia, Hermione let out a different kind of sigh than usually and followed Malfoy to the car they had been driving around in. This time however, when she sat in, she felt no where near as uncomfortable and as out of place before. Smoothing out her skirt and coat, it felt like these clothes and the person wearing them belonged in this life. Altogether, she felt not unlike a princess, being driven around in a car she didn’t dare guess the price of and wearing an outfit that fell into the same category. Treated like this, she was brought another step closer to developing some sort of understanding for the insufferable brats many of her fellow pupils were. If you were only ever treated to and spoiled with the best of the best, wasn’t it understandable that at some point you’d become convinced that you deserved it and therefore anybody, who didn’t have it, must be inferior? It seemed like an awfully likely false conclusion to come to. “You are awfully quiet”, Malfoy interrupted her train of thought at that, “If I misjudged and you would rather visit a rare bookstore…” Before he could finish that sentence, she jumped in, rather more strongly than she had expected herself, “I like it”. The brat looked sceptical at that still, so she continued, “I was just thinking that I can appreciate how one might find oneself becoming used to this and misjudge…accordingly”. And before the weight of this concession could grow too heavy on their shoulders, she was quick to add, “Not that I accept or in any way condone it. After all there are many examples of people, who are used to this treatment and don’t turn out to be utter arses”.

  
“We’re here”, he interrupted, effectively dismissing her rant. She groaned, as she out on her gloves and let the driver help her out of the car, which seemed to be too integral a part of her whole Christmas Day. The brat waited politely and only entered the restaurant, when she was right by his side. However, it wasn’t that, which surprised her most, but how homely the restaurant felt. She had expected something very modern filled with a lot of chrome and crisp whites and dark polished wood. Something very minimalist that served some kind of fusion cuisine or maybe just high-quality sushi. What she was met with instead was a big room with a ceiling that was covered in banners of cream coloured silk and scattered with tables all around that looked like they had been sat at a thousand times in the best possible way. It felt, to her absolute astonishment, wonderfully inviting. “Are you absolutely certain this is your favourite restaurant?”, Hermione found herself asking, unable to keep the disbelief and slight tinge of sarcasm out of her voice. Malfoy just raised an eyebrow and answered, “Yes, quite so. It would be quite a shame if I disliked the style of my own restaurant”. Whelp, that was fitting. Normal people went around, trying new restaurants until they found one, they liked. Draco Malfoy just fucking had one built to his liking.

  
As she sat down at the pristine table, she noticed that there were no menus on the table, which Malfoy noticed immediately explaining, “On Christmas, there is no à la carte, only one set menu. It ensures the restaurant can stay open at minimum cost”. “Catering to the regulars at the usual prize, while paying the usual wage and seeking out new people by being open year-round?”, she suggested, sounding no less blasé than the brat. Looking up to meet his gaze, she found that he looked quite surprised, obviously not having expected her to have such an understanding of business. However, he didn’t seem negative in any way and just provided, with the most curious expression, “Well, yes, that’s the idea. Plus, I think every restaurant should serve a good Christmas roast”. At that, she chuckled in disbelief. Of all the foods that she would have imagined to be served in Draco Malfoy’s favourite restaurant, if she had ever spared it any thought, a classic Christmas roast wouldn’t have been one. But sure enough, they were served juicy turkey and thick gravy with a lovely red and plum pudding and custard for dessert together with healthy helpings of champagne. Of course, everything was of the highest quality and artistically arranged on the plates, but at the end of the day, it was still just Christmas dinner.

  
To her surprise, along with the bill came two Christmas crackers. Malfoy picked them up gingerly and handed the other side to her, suggesting, “On the count of three?” Hermione shrugged and went along with it, ending up winning one of them, with Malfoy getting the other. Opening hers, Hermione found that she had wound up with a silk scarf in her cracker, while, ironically, Malfoy only found a fortune telling fish and a crappy joke. He looked at the little paper in distain, but Hermione, filling all Christmas-y from the alcohol she had consumed with her dinner, insisted, “Come on, Malfoy, indulge me!” “If you insist”, he sighed heavily, as if she had asked him for a large loan, rather than a stupid joke. “Who is Santa’s favourite singer?”, Malfoy read out loud, sounding as if he had already given up on Christmas and maybe life altogether. Hermione just shrugged and looked at him expectantly. “Elfis Presley”, he deadpanned. At that a sound escaped Hermione, that was somewhere between a snort, a laugh and maybe a bit of a sob. “That was arguably the worst joke I have ever heard”, she grinned, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t break out into laughter at the brat’s solemn mood, lest he leave her in London out of annoyance. “Arguably”, he huffed, though he couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto his features. In a fit of Christmas spirit of his own doing, Hermione assumed, Malfoy even picked up the magic fish in his hand, but somehow the explanation landed in the candle’s flame, before they could figure out what the head and tail moving meant.

  
After all that, they left the restaurant, only to find that outside was not only dark and foggy, but now also covered in a thin layer of snow. Malfoy headed for the car, but was held back by Hermione suggesting, “Do you want to walk for a bit?” The brat turned around to face her, looking at least as shocked as she felt, because she wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. After an awkward moment of considering, however, Malfoy seemed to decide to indulge her one last time on this Christmas day and joined her side instead of getting into the car. They started walking quietly alongside each other, enjoying the unusual calm in London. Most likely, the silence was better than any sort of conversation, which could only result in arguments. Like that, they spend a solid twenty minutes, until, quite suddenly, Hermione lost her footing and found herself falling. The second she lost balance, her mind went into hyperdrive, already anticipating the pain she would have to go through, because of the inevitable bruise on her derriere. The only impact she felt, however, wasn’t with the floor, but with a solid body.

  
“Well, wouldn’t this be perfect if we were in a romantic comedy”, she laughed awkwardly, as the brat let her go, while still making sure she was steady on her feet, “or, you know, a k-drama”. At that, the brat groaned, “Please, tell me that you don’t actually watch that rubbish”. “It’s easy to watch and perfect to relax with, thank you very much”, she sniffed, although she couldn’t help but blush. Romantic comedies, 80s trash and k-dramas definitely fell into the category of guilty pleasures. Malfoy just groaned again at her slight rant, although with tangible amusement and stepped to the curb, as the driver, who had been following their walk opened the door for them. “After you”, Malfoy sighed, gesturing at the door. Hermione, still shaken from the fall, settled into the car, but not without grumbling, “So much for walking”. “As much as I enjoy a calm walk”, Malfoy answered after a few minutes of silence, in which Hermione had assumed that he hadn’t heard her, “I don’t want to have to explain to Harry just why you broke a limb spending the day with me”. And that was the end of their conversation for the rest of their lengthy journey back to Hogwarts. Upon getting onto the plane, Hermione found herself wondering whether he had enjoyed the day at all, because, despite herself, she had to admit that she had. At some point, shortly before landing in Scotland, she decided that he must have, if his non-sour expression was anything to go by. They didn’t exchange many words, when they reached Hogwarts. A simple Merry Christmas and Goodnight on either side was all they said, before settling into their respective parts of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've got like three more prewritten chapters, after that I'll reduce to once a week
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr, if you want to (whatwouldvoldydo) 
> 
> Oh, and please tell me, if youd rather have a paragraph after every dialogue line format


	13. Good Thing

Hermione woke up the next day with her head slightly heavy from the mix of alcohol she had had the day before. That feeling of cotton in her head, together with the earie quietness of the near empty castle made her feel strangely like she had only dreamt the day before. It did make sense as well, as it could only be in a dream or a parallel universe that she would actually have enjoyed a day with Draco Malfoy, the insufferable git. However, the new outfit that was stored on a hanger on her closet door definitely proved that yesterday had actually happened. After a quick shower, she jumped into a pair of leggings and a cosy Hogwarts crew neck, before making her way through the weirdly silent castle to the great hall, where she was greeted by nothing and nobody, other than the brat sitting at his usual spot at their table already. He looked as put together as always, sipping on a cup of coffee, while reading something on his tablet.

“Morning”, she muttered, as she sat down and poured herself a cuppa.

The brat, as per usual, didn’t acknowledge her with more than a hum saying as much as, “Good Morning to you too, Mia”. Strangely enough, it didn’t annoy her quite as much as usual that he didn’t even look up from his work for a second.

  
Although she appreciated the silence that they had going on between them, after about half a cup of tea, she couldn’t help but break it with what she felt was deeply necessary.

“So, Draco…”, she finally muttered, while setting down her cup to give herself a few more moments to find how exactly she wanted to say what she needed to. Having formulated a phrase in her head, she looked up from where she had given way too much attention to setting a cup on a saucer, only to find that Draco wasn’t ignoring her as was normal but was staring at her in what she could only describe as shock.

It made her deeply uncomfortable to be scrutinized for no apparent reason, so after a few seconds she snapped, “What?” Weirdly enough, the surge of frustration and anger she felt at that made her much more comfortable. She decided not to delve too deep into the reality of how unhealthy that behaviour was and instead stared at Draco as he gingerly sat down his tablet, took a big gulp of coffee and then came back out of it with his features a bit more schooled, though still obviously flustered.

Getting annoyed at him taking so long and with the weirdness of the day before slowly fading, Hermione groaned, “What in heaven’s name have I done that is so utterly shocking you lose your perfect composure?” – after some more silence she ranted on – “Is there a ghost behind me? Or maybe my outfit is somehow offending you, which is ridiculous, but I have to admit, not impossible to imagine…”

“You called me by my first name, Mia”, he cut into her rant, ever so calmly with a certain softness to his tone.

  
Now it was her turn to look surprised as she played through the last few minutes in her head and remembered that, yes, she had referred to him by his first name, even in thought.

“Well”, she started out, not sure how to continue that phrase, “I’m…sorry, I guess?”

“No need to be”, he provided, obviously having overcome the initial shock of her unheard-of lenience and being back to his usual cool.

“I was just taken aback, is all”, he explained with a glance at her, “Though not negatively”.

“Right”, Hermione awkwardly replied, before diving back into her tea and newspaper. It seemed that Draco, as well, considered the conversation settled, as he returned to his tablet and whatever statistic or quarterly balance sheet he was working through.

When they were nearly done with their breakfast, quite suddenly Draco asked, “What do you want, actually?”

“That’s a rather profound question to ask completely out of the blue”, she countered, grinning, because she knew full-well he was referring to the start of their earlier conversation. Taking the piss was fun, however.

Taking mercy on him, after a few delicious moments of him being frustrated at her for once and her not being frustrated at all, she answered, “I wanted to thank you for yesterday”.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult to say as she had dreaded at the start of the morning. This Draco, agreeably dismissive as he was, was much easier to deal with than his usual version.

When he met her gaze, she added, “I had a lovely time. And the present was great. So, thank you”.

“My pleasure”, he nodded, his voice devoid of any sarcasm or haughtiness.

  
The genuineness of this exchange lead to a sort of mutely decided armistice. Draco, it seemed was always busy with something, working through the yearly balance of a few smaller businesses his father had left him in charge off as it turned out, and Hermione caught up with her studies and her research into the medical community. This kept them from seeing too much of each other, as they stayed holed up in their respective rooms most of the time, and lead to them peacefully coexisting in the time they did spend together, which was mostly meals. In that way, five days passed quite quickly and before they knew it, people were returning for the legendary Hogwarts New Year’s Eve party. Along with that small flood of people, who arrived on the morning of the 31st, having come with the overnight Hogwarts Express, returned the rest of the heirs and their fan girls. Harry, upon finding them sat together peacefully, seemed astonished that they were both alive and, as far as he could tell, unharmed.

Instead of actually greeting them, Harry rushed to the table and blurted out, “You’re not fighting”.

Hermione, not surprised, but slightly annoyed at that being the first thing she heard from her best male friend, turned to him and replied, quite coldly, “And good morning to you too, Harry”.

Harry blushed at that, realising that he might have been a tad impolite and then leant down to hug her and kiss her on the crown of her head.

“I missed you, Mione”, he muttered very close to her ear, which of course didn’t go unnoticed by the crowd that had been deprived of rumours around the heirs for the past few days. Hermione rolled her eyes at that, thinking about how long that moment would haunt her. Typical Harry, accidentally making a scene of himself the second he arrived back at school. Draco, she found as she met his glance, was somewhere between chuckling fondly at his naïve friend and rolling his eyes at how desperately inapt he was. With Harry once again settled in at her side, Hermione turned to greet the others, politely inquiring about their Christmas and then leaving them to their conversation with Draco.

That however didn’t go unnoticed by the others and Blaise was the first to remark upon it. He draped himself across his chair, studied his nails and wondered, “So, what went down with the two of you? Did you finally have sex and get that pesky tension out?” Hermione shot up at that and incredulously stared Blaise, trying and failing to say something and instead just flailed her arms helplessly. She glanced over at Draco to see if he was ready to provide any snide remark, but he seemed nearly as taken aback as her.

“Tactful, Blaise. Excellently done, really”, Anthony finally stepped in, taking a sip of tea, “You increased both of their chances for a cardiac arrest by at least ten years”.

  
After a few chuckles Harry mused, “The two of you are oddly peaceful”.

Noting his tone, Hermione turned to face him with one eyebrow raised.

Harry, who had pushed them to sort it out (although there was nothing to sort out except them just plainly not getting along), sounded concerned enough that Draco decided to find his capability of speech again and casually explained, “We just had a pleasant Christmas together in London”.

That statement, unfortunately, did nothing to deescalate the mood, but was only met with a healthy amount of shock and suspicion.

Before Blaise’s mind could emerge from the gutter enough for him to say something incredibly uncomfortable, Hermione added, “Just got me a present, because somebody” – she side-eyed the brat – “didn’t get me a present, when everybody else did and then we had dinner in Draco’s favourite restaurant”.

This time it didn’t take her long to figure out, why exactly everybody at the table seemed so shocked, but she also found herself deeply regretting the last sentence almost immediately. Draco had reacted almost mildly to this unusual address in comparison to Harry and Blaise at that moment.

“Draco’s favourite restaurant?”, the former inquired, his face momentarily ashen, as if he had come to some sort of dark revelation through her using that damned name.

“It’s just a name!”, she groaned, focusing on each of their faces. But not a single one out of the five men at the table seemed to be convinced of this.

After a few more tense moments, Hermione sighed, “How did it only take you less than five minutes to have me groaning again?”

“Not my best time”, Blaise replied, once again casually draped over his chair. There were some snorts all around the table at that and with the tension cleared it didn’t take much longer for them to calmly split apart.

Somehow, she got lucky and ended up alone in her room and able to relax. Draco and Blaise had got into an in-depth discussion almost as soon as they had finished breakfast and Harry had gone off to do something or other with Anthony and Ernie. However, lounging around in her room, she didn’t feel the extreme relieve she used to feel being there. Despite her best efforts not to, she was growing quite fond of those idiots she had so perfectly avoided for six years. However, that didn’t mean that she was about to actively seek them out, when she could have some time to read some more. Having skipped lunch, she started getting ready earlier than usual and found herself putting in much more effort than normally. It made sense, she reassured herself, that she tidied up her hair much more nicely than she ever had and out on the new jumper she had got for Christmas, seeing as for the first time ever, sinking into the background wasn’t an option. Being Hermione, the girl that hung out with the heirs, meant that she would be closely scrutinised whether she wanted that or not, and she’d rather not give people any more grounds than her plain looks by not being perfectly put together. It wasn’t like she had been a slob before. It was just that she put on two different mascaras this time and she redid her hair twice and spent twenty minutes nervously chewing her lip while staring at her closet. If she, with her limited sense of fashion and style, could tell that something wasn’t perfectly nice, then how horrible would it be to the gossip mongers of Hogwarts Academy?

  
Despite putting in a good amount of effort and time in her outfit, she found that when she was done, she had barely crossed the official starting time of the Hogwarts New Year’s Eve party, which meant that absolutely nobody, including the teachers, would be present. Still, despite knowing this, she had to physically restrain herself from walking straight down. Somehow, in her waiting, she got lost in her book and suddenly looked at the clock to find that she was definitely not early for the party anymore. Thankful that she had a pair of nice flat winter boots to wear with her outfit, rather than one of the two pairs of heels she owned, she made her way down to the Great Hall as quickly as she could, stopping one turn before it, so she could catch her breath and not look like a complete mess. Looking like she was a mess, who forgot the party at the school she represented would definitely not leave a good impression.

  
Thankfully, the party being fully going already meant, that nobody was paying attention to her entrance. It did, however, also mean that she didn’t see a single person she could talk to. Walking up to one of the heirs now, even though she was an established member of their group, would end in a nightmare of gossip and none of her other friends had come back to Hogwarts yet. As far as she knew, Ginny, Ron and Luna were all with Dean’s family somewhere in the countryside, having a blast without the scrutiny that always came with the academy. She was stood there awkwardly in the entrance, until somebody gently grabbed her arm from the side, and linked her arm with his, pulling her through the pool of people to a slightly less crowded part of the hall.

“Thank you”, Hermione muttered, looking up from her feet she had been staring at in slight embarrassment, only to finally see who it actually was that had come to her rescue.

“I not you don’t have a lot of practice with it, but a grand entrance is usually more effective, when people actually realize you’re having a grand entrance”, Draco’s unmistakable snarl answered back, as she looked into his grey eyes.

“Well, I didn’t want to be early, so...”, she struggled to explain herself.

“So you lost track of time and became late instead?”, Draco added, with none of his usual bite.

Rather than throwing a tantrum, Hermione just rolled her eyes at the brat’s tone of voice, and let him lead her towards a waiter, who was carrying flutes of champagne. Her inner instinct was of course to unlink her arm from Draco’s and leaving his side as quickly as possible, so that she could just hide in some corner of the party. That, however, an option she had given up a few months ago, when she first sat at that damn table in the front of the Great Hall. Now, if she was alone at this Hogwarts party, she would just end up being surrounded by girls that wanted to either scratch out her eyes and have them on toast or make a living room out of her arse. Draco, no matter how much she abided the fact, provided a certain distance at least, as the girls were usually gawping from afar rather than approaching him.

Simply accepting the situation, as she did so often lately, she gratefully took the glass of champagne the Draco handed her and after a sip of it, wondered, “Where’s Harry anyway? And Ernie, Anthony and Blaise?”

“If I’m not mistaken”, the brat started – and I never am implied, “Blaise should be somewhere flirting with somebody or other. Anthony is almost certainly debating with Professor Sinistra and Harry, lacking the benefit of being regarded as brooding or mysterious, is probably surrounded by girls or hiding from them”. Hermione sighed deeply, troubled at the mention of Harry. On the one hand, she felt like she should find him and do what she was meant to do in this group, but on the other, she didn’t want to spend too much time alone with Harry.

Malfoy disrupted her inner turmoil by declaring, in his usual blasé way of talking, “I’m afraid I’m the only heir at your disposal right now”. 


	14. Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know I'm horrible. This story is not abandoned at all, I'm still writing it.  
> If you want to know my bullshit excuse for however long a hiatus I had, read the end notes.

“You look nice, by the way”, Draco assured her after a particularly long period of silence between them. She stared up at him, taken aback a bit, especially when after a few moments, he hadn’t added any insult.

“You as well”, she replied, while downing her glass of champagne to lighten the awkwardness a bit. Finally, she caught Harry’s eye as he crossed through the room to approach them and, dear god, she had never been happier to see him.

“You look absolutely beautiful, Hermione”, Harry greeted her with a broad smile, as soon as he was close enough for her to hear. He kissed her tenderly on the cheek and then, thankfully, moved back again, so that he wasn’t standing all too close to her. It also gave her some time to take him in. For all their school’s claims to prestige, she hadn’t really seen him in anything close to formal wear before, but mostly his school uniform or casual every day clothes. It was easy enough to admit that Harry looked quite stunning in his well-cut, no doubt incredibly expensive, black suit. Of course, there was still the resemblance to a lost black Labrador puppy. A stunning puppy.

Harry started a conversation with both Draco and Hermione then, which was crowned with limited success, until Anthony turned up from somewhere and moderated the conversation, somehow managing to balance all of them out. At some point, Draco excused himself to talk to somebody, at another Blaise asked her to dance, which didn’t go as horribly as she had thought. Apparently, when he had joked that he was good enough a dancer for both of them, he hadn’t actually been joking. After about the tenth change of heirs beside her, Hermione got a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t happening by accident but was coordinated instead.

It was, when she found herself dancing clumsily with Harry that she wondered out loud, “So, when exactly did you ask everybody to stay close to me tonight?”

“I didn’t”, he muttered, in wonderment, then mused, “But now that you mention it, we have all been flocking to you this night, haven’t we?” She shrugged, still sure that it wasn’t happening unintentionally, but resigned herself to think that the whole bunch knew the Academy well enough to understand her need for some guards this night.

In that way, she found that the night passed pretty quickly. Once they were approaching midnight, Hermione excused herself from Harry’s side. She wasn’t quite sure why, but for some reason she didn’t want to be next to his side amidst the excitement of the new year. Instead she found herself drifting outside with the last people to leave the room and stuck to the edges of the staircase, where they could easily see the other shore of the lake, where the firework would be set off. Her gaze wandered around, trying and failing to find either Anthony, Ernie or Blaise. Instead, she caught sight of a familiar tuft of nearly white hair standing to the side and being surprisingly not bothered by any girls. It seemed to be one of the advantages of his cured image of mystery that nobody dared actually approach the ever-brooding Draco Malfoy. At first, she made the quite easy decision that there was no reason whatsoever to risk the remaining shreds of her sanity just to go talk to Draco, when there was no redeeming reason to do so. However, when she saw some of the fangirls approaching her at a brisk pace, she quickly made the decision to join the brat after all.

Once she had joined his side, she saw that he had a rather direct view of Harry, who seemed quite flustered surrounded by a hoard of girls.

“You could do a better job at staying by his side, you know”, he mused after a few moments of silence. She glanced at him from the side and saw that he was definitely not drinking the school approved champagne, but what seemed like whiskey from a crystal glass. In his smart brown and crème ensemble, holding the golden liquid and being bathed in the warm light of the school’s old gas lanterns outside, he looked like he had stepped right out of an old sepia toned picture. Slightly distracted by her own observation, she somehow managed to pass the acceptable amount of time she could need to react to Draco’s statement and therefore ended up taking the certainly hand-blown glass from his hand and take a tentative sip of the golden liquid. The brat huffed in indignation for a bit, but watched her with a tint of humour, before seemingly making another glass appear out of thin air and pouring himself another drink from an engraved flask. It seemed that their armistice was still going on for now.

“I’m not going to be here forever”, she finally stated, long moments after she probably should have, “He needs to learn how to handle himself eventually”. Draco only reacted by humming quietly and pointedly watching how overwhelmed Harry clearly was.

“No other reasons?”, he wondered.

Hermione turned away from Harry to face the king of all brats instead and sighed, “Plenty”. After that they remained in surprisingly comfortable silence, nursing their drinks and watching Harry with similarly fond glances. Before they knew, the last half hour before the new year had nearly passed and an almost tangible excitement went through the assembled crowd, as they counted down the last ten seconds before the new year. Instinctively uncomfortable with the general euphoria Hermione backed herself to the wall, noting on the side that Draco had done the same thing.

“Happy new year”, she suggested to him, shrugging a little, because how happy could anybody really be just because a one of their bigger constructs of time had started over.

“Happy new year”, Draco replied quietly, studying her face, before quite suddenly he turned around and quickly melted in with the crowd. Hermione on the other hand took the chance to leave behind her classmates, who were all busy either singing horrible renditions of Auld Lang Slyne or engaging in the more American tradition of snogging a random victim.

It was only after getting to her room, taking of her make-up, changing into pyjamas and lying in bed for half an hour that she realised she was not tired at all and rather felt restless beyond belief. So, she put a Hogwarts jumper on over her pyjamas and started wandering the castle, keeping well away from the ground floor, where she assumed the party was going on, judging from the noise that drifted up to the lower floors. Eventually, Hermione realised that her feet were carrying her to the astronomy tower, and she decided to continue in that direction. She took the last few steps of the staircase leading up to the tower in one stride and realised that she wasn’t alone. Of course, she wasn’t alone. Nobody in the Hogwarts student body seemed to care about the fact that the tower was off limits to anyone, who wasn’t staff or student staff. Her annoyance ebbed away though, as she recognized the slender silhouette and sleek pony tail and she crossed the space to sit down next to Anthony, letting her legs dangle off the edge just like him.

“And what brings you here, Mia”, he smiled, shouting her a fond, albeit distracted smile. The only answer she could give was a shrug, because, as much as she appreciated Anthony as the intellectual of a group, she wasn’t sure if he would understand her social anxiety inducing version of weltschmerz and existentialism.

“Did Harry sweep you away for a heartfelt confession via new year’s kiss?”, he suggested, a grin playing at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t even go there, Anthony”, she groaned, pushing that unpleasant idea out of her head.

“Draco then?”, he provided, his voice as grave and serious as ever. This time she groaned even louder and shot the heir next to her a frustrated glare.

“Do you guys enjoy driving me up the wall?”, she fumed, finding that her patience was cut short, maybe by the whiskey from before.

Anthony chuckled and gently put an arm around her, pulling her in for an affectionate side hug and declared, “It’s all in good humour, Mia. As the only girl ever allowed in this group, you are simply a fascinating discovery”. She rolled her eyes at that, not liking the comparison with a toy that was thinly veiled behind his remark. Rather than get annoyed though, she sighed and settled into the side hug, resting her heavy head on Anthony’s slightly bony shoulder.

They sat there like that for a while, both staring out at the white mountains and the annoyingly beautiful stars that made life seem all the drearier in her current state. “So, why are you _actually_ here then?”, he finally inquired, voice low so as to match the silence around them.

“Oh, just the annual realisation that time continues, and people fool themselves into believing that the times are ever a changing, when actually nothing ever changes, because the same patterns just repeat over and over with different people filling the roles, and sometimes not even that, because the universe is extremely lazy. You know, girl problems”, Hermione replied in one breath, taking a deep breath once she had gone through it all. Anthony stared at her then, obviously contemplating something, and then started to chuckle. After a few moments that little chuckle had turned into a full on laughing fit, with Anthony holding his sides and bending over, nearly howling. God, maybe he was a bit more borderline than genius after all.

“I know I crack a good joke every once in a while, but it wasn’t that great”, she muttered worriedly, when minutes later Anthony was still heaving with laughter and seeming insanity.

She watched him literally grip the banisters so he could get a grip and then, between suppressed giggles explained, “I’m sorry. It’s just that you and Draco hate each other so much”.

“You only realised that now?”, Hermione wondered, growing even more concerned. She wasn’t even sure how Draco had managed to enter this conversation again.

“No, no, Mia”, Anthony giggled, “That’s not the best part” – he snorted out a laughter again and then finally declared – “The best part is that you so obviously do, because you’re literally the same person”.

“We’ve been over that before, but it never sent you into a laughing fit”, she sheepishly replied, all the while musing on whether she could get away with inconspicuously checking his temperature.

Anthony at that finally looked a bit more serious and with a much less manic grin explained, “He basically gave that same lecture to me some months ago”.

All she could do was pout at that and decide that any reasonable conversation she could have with Anthony was lost to the unfortunate fact that apparently Draco seemed to have a similar kind of distantly realistic approach to life as her.

“Happy new year, Anthony”, she sighed and kissed him on the cheek before standing up and leaving him to quietly giggle to himself. God knew she had at least provided him with some lovely entertainment at the start of the new year. She wandered through the school a bit more, still struggling with some restlessness, but carefully avoided the parts were she knew people were still around. Finally, after an hour of wandering, she felt herself starting to be fatigued. She settled into bed, feeling mostly sober again and trying hard not to think about how different her life would be this year from the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I had written a chapter and then somehow managed to lose it, although I have it on two different devices and a cloud (not sure how that worked) and that threw me in such a slump that I couldn't write for a while.


	15. Stuck With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another chapter to make up for me being a sad excuse for a barely functioning human.

The next day she woke up with her thoughts being much the same. How in heaven’s name had she gone from peacefully working towards an existence of changing other people’s lives to worrying about the heirs first thing in the morning? No, scratch that, it was not only first thing in the morning, but first thing in the new year. Miffed at herself, Hermione got up, dressed in a warm jumper, jeans and boots, then left her room, checking in quickly with Harry. He was, as it turned out, fast asleep, and in her endless prowess as his baby sitter/caretaker, she put a glass of water and a paracetamol next to him. There was no way of knowing whether he had been drunk the night before but seeing as he had been left with Blaise and Ernie, arguably the party heirs, by his side, it wasn’t entirely unlikely. Who even knew how often he had drunk alcohol so far. With that taken care of, she made her way downstairs to the Great Hall, desperate for some water and coffee, because she _had_ indulged in the whiskey and champagne a significant bit, and found that there was no wait whatsoever, because, unsurprisingly, the room was completely empty. All of Hogwarts tended to be in a hungover stupor on the first of January.

On a whim, she decided to have her coffee put in a thermos and took it outside instead of having it in the depressingly empty Great Hall, deeply breathing in the cold winter air. There was a layer of disgustingly beautiful frost all over the grounds that made everything seem a tad more romantic and magical than it actually was. Without even meaning to, Hermione wandered along the lake towards her favourite tree once again, only to find that it was already occupied.

“I’ve spent six years hiding away at this tree and never encountered you? Why did we change this good thing we had going?”, she called to the brat, sitting on an insulated blanket by the tree, working away at his tablet. He looked up, and to her surprise, met her with something akin to a smile. Maybe they were still on a whiskey truce from yesterday she thought.

“I hate to break this to you”, he started at which Hermione snorted her disbelief, while already sitting down on the blanket next to him, “I think you might be lucky that you met me here”.

“How so?”, she asked, missing any bite and nipping on her coffee.

He stared at her then, slowly letting his gaze wander from her head downwards, which made her extremely uncomfortable and then chuckled, “It just seems that you are vastly unprepared for having your morning tea outside in the Scottish winter air”. Finally, she did the same scan of her body that Draco had just done and found that, unfortunately, he was right. Sure, she had dressed in a thick jumper and jeans, but if it weren’t for the insulated blanket she was sitting on, she would literally be freezing her ass off.

“It’s coffee, not tea”, was the only weak protest she could muster.

At that, the brat perked up quite suddenly and caught her eye saying, “How about a trade of blanket for coffee”. She glanced at the blanket that Draco had thrown over his shoulders and visibly shivered, very suddenly realising that she was cold as fuck and glanced down at her thermos that absolutely contained enough coffee for two people.

“That depends”, she mused, a grin tugging at her lips, “Does that come with a non-disclosure agreement so that our friends don’t lose their collective minds?”

“Is the coffee black?”, he shot back, his expression even.

When Hermione nodded, he provided, “Then yes”. She couldn’t help the small giggle, no matter how unfitting it seemed to the situation, as Draco unwrapped the blanket from his shoulders to share it with her and then took the thermos from her hand, only to half empty it in one gulp.

They sat in silence for a while after that, sharing the thermos back and forth between them, Hermione reading the medical journal she had brought down and Draco working on his tablet, until at some point he spoke up again, “You left early yesterday”. She noticed, looking to her side, that he had put down his tablet and was leaning against the thick trunk, with his eyes closed. It reminded her of a similar moment in autumn, only that then the golden light had illuminated his features and made him look more peaceful and softer, whereas now the harsh winter light made him look more exhausted than one night of little sleep could. He looked the kind of tired that only a life of exhaustion could make somebody. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Draco had the world at his feet and all the money he could ever spend in his life time.

“Yep”, she mumbled after a while, remembering that she still hadn’t reacted to his statement.

“Did you resent the new year’s euphoria then?”, he wondered, continuing the one-sided nature of their conversation. Why did she get the feeling that Draco Malfoy might actually want to talk about something in this vacuum they were in at the moment?

Intrigued, and, although she would deny it even under severe torture, moderately concerned, she agreed, “I suppose that’s one way of putting it”.

When he didn’t answer her, she added, “When did _you_ leave?” It took Draco so long to reply that she thought he might have fallen asleep, or the moment in which he had seemed likely to share was over, but finally he answered anyway.

“I took off as soon as I could away with it”, he sighed, his eyes closed more firmly now, as she observed, when she glanced at him. It almost seemed like he was trying to lock the world out for a bit.

“Not in a party mood yesterday, then?”, she chuckled lightly, trying to loosen to tone of the conversation that small bit. “New year’s clashes with my cynicism”, he replied, effectively destroying the last bits of her old assumption that the heirs loved being glorified at any occasion.

Hermione let out a bitter kind of laugh at his answer though, finding it much too relatable for her own liking. Wasn’t that exactly how she had felt in the early hours of the morning? Wasn’t that precisely what Anthony had nearly pissed himself over?

She mulled that over in her head, while finishing her coffee and leaning back against the tree. Eventually, her mid-morning fatigue set in and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. Or so she assumed, when she woke up some time later, feeling cosy and warm. Why did she feel so cosy though? The sleep-induced haziness in her brain quickly turned into a very confused panic as she considered the possibility that she was currently freezing to death. Freezing did feel comfortable and warm in the end, didn’t it? She reached out quite suddenly, trying to touch her toes and see if she still had any feeling left in them. Losing limbs to frostbite in Scotland might be a rookie mistake, but she’d be fine with that, if she just didn’t die.

“You are not currently dying of hypothermia, Mia”, a voice groaned and managed to drag her out of her weird, half-asleep panic attack. She opened her eyes a bit further, so that she actually managed to take in her surroundings. After a quick check she realised that she was still enveloped in the insulated blanket from before and therefore highly unlikely to die from any sort of temperature exposure. Then, she had another little panic attack, when she noticed that the brat sleepily pulled his arm away from where it had been resting around her shoulders.

“Draco fucking Malfoy, why exactly was your arm around me?”, she hissed, looking at him in displeasure and getting up at the same time. There was some dizziness to it, as she shook of the last remainders of sleep, but she still glared down at him.

“If I had to venture a guess”, he slowly mused, muzzling up his hair and stretching, “I’d say, I subconsciously pulled you closer in my sleep. According to some people, I do have a tendency to do that”.

Hermione just stared at him. She didn’t quite appreciate how cosy and comfortable she had felt in Draco Malfoy’s embrace of all people. Geeze, she really needed to get some more physical affection, if she snuggled up to the brat to end all brats in her desperation.

“ _So?”,_ she grumbled, her voice still raised as she for once towered over him with her arms crossed in defiance. He met her gaze unaffectedly, only slowly raising one of his near-white eyebrows.

“You’re not gonna say anything?”, she continued, only getting more riled up at his nonchalance. He could at least have the common decency of apologizing to her. Some small part of her mind did point out that she was acting irrationally, and her anger was a tad excessive, but it was very hard to listen to, when she wanted to punch the brat in the face. The afore-mentioned stood up slowly, neatly folding both blankets and tugging them under his arm.

“I could have done without being your pillow”, he shrugged, as he walked up to her, going so far as to condescendingly pat her head. Hermione flinched as if he had slapped her and then very suddenly, surprising both herself and Draco, snapped and launched herself at him.

Draco, not having expected that sort of attack, buckled under the sudden weight of Hermione and a moment later, Hermione found herself straddling the brat’s chest, unsure of whether she could keep herself from strangling him. It took a moment of just staying put for her reasoning to set back in, but when it finally did, Hermione ventured a look at the brat’s face. To her surprise he didn’t look condescending or angry, or as he usually did, mildly annoyed, but instead rather taken aback.

“Do you want to get off me anytime soon or are we back to this ‘using you as my doll’ discourse?”, he huffed after a few moments of them awkwardly staring at each other and trying to figure the other out. Hermione just continued staring at him, then she threw her head back with a groan and let it fall back down, moving to massage her temples were a steady little thrum of a headache was setting in.

“It can only go up from here”, she muttered to herself, repeating it as if it were some kind of religious mantra. “You _are_ only a chest-width from the ground”, Draco supplied.

She stared at him incredulously and only became more confused as he started to shake. That was, until she realised that the reason he was shaking her like a martini James Bond would approve of was that he was laughing so hard his whole chest was vibrating.

“Get off me”, he breathlessly laughed after she still stayed in the admittedly compromising position. She got up quickly, realising at the same time that this was the first time she had ever heard him genuinely laugh. Draco chuckled a lot with his friends and he smiled fondly at them, when he thought that nobody was looking. But this was different. It came from somewhere deep within and it was low and dark and wholesome.

Wholesome? She shook her head at that last thought and bowed down a little to sheepishly offer the brat a hand up. After all, she _was_ the one, who had knocked him down in the first place. Draco took it without a verbal comment, but with a significant amount of giggles.

As they made their way back inside, the brat was still chuckling along and Hermione couldn’t help but snap at him, “Will you calm down already?” By that point they had arrived in the entrance hall, which was thankfully empty although there now were some voices drifting over from the Great Hall.

“You do have to admit”, he chortled, obviously _not_ having calmed down, “That there is some comic relief in you launching yourself at me like a fury and then just awkwardly sitting on me for several minutes” – he made a dramatic pause and then added – “Followed by you complaining about a situation that you _entirely_ inflicted upon yourself”. She considered informing him that it was not her fault, but rather his for frustrating her ceaselessly, but then opted to roll her eyes at him. She did have to admit that the whole situation had been the kind of stupid, fluffy humour you would find in the k-dramas and romantic comedies she enjoyed watching a tad too much. It wasn’t really the kind of thing that happened in her life, or any life really. But then she had had a dramatic make-over for a Christmas present quite recently, so who knew what could happen in her stupid life anymore. They parted ways shortly before their respective staircases, Hermione’s leading up to the upper floors so she could get to the Gryffindor tower and Draco’s leading downstairs so he could get to the Snake’s dungeons. Which was a ridiculous name, because the dormitories there were just as nice as any other and apparently had a spectacular view of the lake underwater. However that had been built. Hermione shook her head some more, before she went upstairs and skyped her parents.


	16. Need You Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what, guys, there's a new chapter! I know, I'm as surprised as you are!

In the following days the rest of the Hogwarts student body returned to the academy, most with new phones, wardrobes and, for the older ones, likely STDs and a considerable amount with new noses. The halls filling with noise again and more people than just Draco Malfoy sitting in the Great Hall in the morning was a more than welcome change, although the gossip came back in full force as well. There were some rumours about Blaise being gay once again, which honestly, was a joke. Because if Blaise were to label himself as anything, she assumed it would be pan. Much more prominent than that was a story about how the Malfoys were talking to people about getting Draco engaged as soon as possible, which seemed to be supported by the fact that Narcissa had met up with Acantha Greengrass, which wasn’t unusual, and her daughter Daphne, which was extremely unusual. Draco ignored the rumour quite actively, which made all of them weary of it. Usually, it wasn’t even clear if Draco had _heard_ a rumour, because he was so indifferent to them, but this time he pointedly tuned out anything said about it.

It was weird, how they settled into a semblance of normality as lessons started again, but it didn’t feel quite right to her. Even after no more than three months spent with the heirs, she could feel how their dynamic was off. Draco was not quite as collected as he usually was, which in turn made Blaise much more concerned and less jokey and lead to Ernie being present much more often. It also made Harry, who was weary of the change to say the least, which was no surprise considering the significant trauma he must have suffered from his childhood, grow all the more attached to her. Still, despite everything, they fell back into old habits. If you could call it that, seeing as she had only had them for weeks. Admittedly, there were worse things than being able to turn to Anthony as an efficient study partner for the exams she hadn’t prepared enough for yet. Harry and Blaise trying their best to cheer her up, when she had a moody day, was also definitely a perk of her new friends. And arguably her favourite part was, when, in the evening, rather than sitting with Ginny and Dean and hoping that they’d have mercy on her and not snog, she now had a whole group. Harry tended to always hang around anyway and every now and then a non-griffin found their way to the tower and joined their little group.

It felt, well, like home, in a way that Hogwarts never had. And although she tried to be frustrated with the fact that the heirs of all people made her feel like that, it was the reality of this only occurring in her last year of school that really upset her. It would all be over soon enough. Her gloomy realisation wasn’t helped by January passing in the blink of an eye and the winter term coming to an end rapidly. She was sat alone in her room, seeing as all of her friends were otherwise engaged. Ginny and Dean were somewhere doing who knew what, Harry was training for rugby and she hadn’t caught a glimpse of any of the heirs in what literally had to be days at that point. It was for that reason that she was all the more startled, when she suddenly heard a knock on her door. Assuming it had to be some distressed first-year standing in front of it she pulled it open with the sweetest, most gentle smile she could muster. Which was very sweet, because she was fucking amazing at her job. However, as soon as she realised that she wasn’t faced with a struggling 11-year-old, but Draco Malfoy of all people, her face fell.

Of course, Draco noticed, but the only way he reacted was by slowly raising a near white eyebrow, as always.

He might have wanted to add some snarky remark to that, but before he could, Hermione groaned, “Don’t say a word”. To her honest surprise, Draco closed his mouth, that had already opened to form a response, though the eyebrow stayed obnoxiously high.

When after a few moments of her staring at him, he still didn’t tell her why he was leaning against her door frame, she snapped, “Would you just tell me what the hell you are doing here, Draco?!”

He harrumphed and then drawled, “You will find, Mia, that it is quite difficult to speak, when you are asked not to open your mouth”.

“So, the Malfoy fortune hasn’t managed to buy you telepathy yet?”, she shot back, finding that she was grinning. For once she might actually be able to win one of these arguments in a satisfying way. Draco however disappointed her by not even groaning or rolling his eyes, but just reaching into his blazer pocket, pulling out an envelope and handing it to her.

Hermione opened it, noting that it was addressed to Draco and skimmed the paper. It was an invitation to a small benefit auction, as it seemed. An excuse for the rich to spend money and then congratulate each other and themselves on how superior they were to other people because of spending all that money. It left a sour taste in her mouth that this was the world she had actively chosen to enter. Once, when she was eleven and had decided to go to Hogwarts; another time, when she had decided to start sixth form here and finally, when she had accepted that offer months ago. Her eyebrows did shoot up, when she saw that the invitation was signed by Acantha Greengrass of all people and that the event would be held at Greengrass house.

“Sounds like good networking?”, she suggested, unsure of what exactly the brat wanted from her.

“I’m glad you recognize that it is”, he replied, his expression not showing any gladness. If it was showing anything, she would have guessed some level of worry and reluctance, but that might have just been projecting what she had observed in the last weeks.

“It means that you might get some use out of going”, he interrupted her thoughts and Hermione stared at him. Somehow, she hadn’t seen that coming, although in hind side, what else could he have wanted from her?

Obviously noting the confusion in her face, the brat harrumphed and then slowly said, “I gather you remember the terms of our verbal contract. It included, beyond being a part of our group in the daily school life-“

“-semi-formal events, yes”, Hermione finished the sentence for him. It just surprised her that in nearly half a year that occasion hadn’t come up. But then, she supposed, Harry hadn’t really attended any of those events either. It had always been Draco, sometimes Blaise or Anthony, who attended these things.

“And this is taking place, when exactly?”, she wondered out loud, fearing that she already knew the answer.

“This evening”, Draco confirmed what she had dreaded. She really wasn’t in the mood to indulge Harry today. Actually, needing to catch-up with her studying had been a welcome excuse to not spend any time with him.

“How considerate of you to inform me an amazing” – she pointedly checked the time given in the invitation – “five hours before this party is starting”, she sassed, unable and unwilling to hide how little amusement she felt at this particular bout of spontaneity.

“Tomorrow is neither a school day, nor do you have any head girl duties. And your lessons for today are done as well”, he provided with a pointed glare at her, “I checked”.

When she only answered with a raised eyebrow of her own, he continued, “I gather you might have liked to use this evening for studying, but if you need it so desperately that you cannot accommodate events that were foreseen in this arrangement, then I fear that you need to restructure your revision schedule”.

“Fine”, Hermione huffed, waving her hand in annoyance. Great, that meant she would have to search through her closet and find something that was appropriate for a semi-formal auction. And before that she would have to find out what even _was_ the dress code for a semi-formal auction.

Draco interrupted her thoughts by saying, “I’ll have your dress sent up in a bit”, he turned around and then, as an afterthought, added, “And as much as I loathe to do this, I will entrust you with your own styling”. And with that last hit at any confidence she might have had in her skills as a beautician, which luckily didn’t exist, he strutted out of her corridor.

Hermione sighed, as she stepped into the bathroom and after a second of staring at her collection of chap sticks and her one bottle of mascara, turned around immediately to find Ginny instead. Luckily, she didn’t have to look for her all that long, but instead ran into her in the common room, which she walked into, looking quite flustered, which meant that she had either just done a work-out or, well, a different kind of work-out. Either way, it meant that the redhead would be in a good mood.

“Hey, Gin”, she smiled at her, the words drawn out much longer than necessary, because if she needed to grovel, she might as well start straight away.

“Oh, fancy seeing you, stranger”, Ginny replied with a wicked little grin, clearly set on making her ask for whatever she needed. Granted, she really hadn’t spent enough time with Ginny lately. Or at all during this term.

“Right”, she muttered, dragging her hand through her hair, “Would you help out a stranger?”

After a second of considering the statement, Hermione groaned, “That sounds like I’m coming onto you, doesn’t it?” Apparently, that was exactly what was needed to make Ginny break her resolve and grin at her friend once again, this time happily.

“God, I hope this somehow comes out as a rumour about your sexuality”, she grinned and then, in a softer tone asked, “What do you need help with?”

“Have you ever dressed up for a semi-formal event?”, Hermione sighed, holding out the invitation she had somehow ended up keeping.

The younger girl took the heavy paper, glanced over it and then smiled, “You’ll be happy to know that Dean’s aunt is the unofficial master of semi-formal events and I am therefore the unofficial master of styling people for them”. With that she trotted after Ginny, first to the redhead’s room to pick up her not too intimidating make-up bag (Ginny, after all, was more of a jock than a make-up guru herself) and then back to her own room.

“By the way”, Ginny stopped short in front of Hermione’s door, “In return for my services, I demand confirmation on several ridiculous rumours I’ve heard flying around the corridors”.

Holding her hand over her heart, Hermione answered, “I’ll answer any question you could possibly have to the best of my abilities”.

“Alright”, Ginny grinned, and then proceeded to shove Hermione into her room and onto a chair. Luckily, the redhead didn’t attack her outright with a set of brushes and question, but rather kept the assault mostly physical, while her questions were more than easy to answer. Really, they were ridiculous rumours and Hermione got the feeling that Ginny was only asking them for the sake of indulging her former demand. When Ginny had done the finishing touches on her make-up and was just about to start working on Hermione’s hair, there was a knock on the door.

Ginny jumped up, form where she had sat opposite of Hermione, flinging her make-up products aside, and then went to rip open the door so suddenly that the one, who had been leaning casually against it, stumbled into the room. Blaise, of course, caught himself remarkably quickly and barely tripped more than two steps, before assuming a downright bored stance again.

“Graceful entrance”, Hermione commented, her eyes already roaming to the pristine clothing bag that she could only assume contained the dress she had been assigned. Blaise ignored her snarky comment and just put on his trademark womanizer smirk that could have the strongest of them buckle their knees, ready to worship him. Or do other things on their knees.

“Delivering your dress, my lady”, he smirked as he hung the bag on her dresser.

“So, when Draco said he would have somebody bring up the dress, he didn’t mean some poor opportunist or hopelessly swooning third year, but actually made you, a more or less functioning adult, his delivery body?”, Hermione sassed, deciding that Blaise would have to serve as her verbal punching bag as the brat wasn’t currently present and she was still annoyed.

“Darlingest”, Blaise muttered, moving closer to her, “Even if Draco threatened my life” – he stopped when he towered directly over her – “he wouldn’t be able to force me into anything”. At this point she could feel the heat from his breath on her face as he got impossibly close.

Then, as suddenly as he had changed his demeanour, he switched back and grinned, “I did it, because he was asking nicely”. With that he pulled away, chuckled and then slightly leaned into Ginny saying, “Goodbye, Ginevra”.

“And that’s what you deal with on the daily?”, Ginny inquired, as she took position behind Hermione to do up her hair.

“What do you mean?”, Hermione asked, not quite sure, where Ginny was heading.

“Just, Blaise hitting on you”, Ginny laughed, “With his whole sex vibe thing”. Hermione chortled. If only Blaise’s _sex vibe_ were the worst thing she had to deal with.

“He’s not hitting on me, Gin”, Hermione laughed, utterly amused by the idea, “I don’t think he can even help the flirting at this point”.

“Yeah, right”, Ginny huffed in disbelief, pulling a bit harder on Hermione’s hair than she needed to.

“Honestly”, Hermione laughed, “Because if Blaise had hit on me earnestly at any point, I am quite sure that I would have already ended up in his bed”. “He is quite irresistible”, the redhead muttered, her voice thick with the embarrassment that came from her history with the most charming heir.

“And to be perfectly honest”, Hermione found herself starting out again, “If we want to talk about stuff I have to deal with, any flirtation would be much less annoying than Blaise’s insistence that Draco just needs to bend me over to get all that sexual tension out, or honestly, Anthony’s constant blubbering about how similar I am to the brat or Harry’s clinginess or quite frankly every occurrence of Draco opening his mouth”.

“That was three mentions of Malfoy in one _very_ long sentence”, Ginny remarked with an audible grin as she put some more needles in Hermione’s hair. The only answer Hermione could provide was an annoyed groan, which in turn earned her some needles that Ginny _accidentally_ angled incorrectly.


	17. The Reflex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everybody's shock, I'm posting again. How bout that?

Twenty minutes and half a can of hairspray later, Ginny declared her all done. She helped Hermione slip into the dress Draco had sent up and then sent her on her way, which was fair enough, because in the heels that the brat had chosen it took her a considerable amount of time to climb down all the stairs from the Griffin tower to the foyer. When she finally arrived at the main portal, Harry was already waiting and staring at her openly. Although she wasn’t the most confident person at times, she had to admit that she could see, where he was coming from at this moment. Ginny, despite her hardly frilly personality, knew how to style a classy look and had worked some small wonders on her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have claimed that there was magic involved.

“You look beautiful”, Harry managed to spew out after a few seconds of just watching her walk towards him and then waiting in awkward silence. Obviously, Hermione wasn’t great at taking compliments about her appearance. It’s not like she could do a lot about it. There was no hard, studious work behind it, no natural talent she had carefully honed, no skills she had curated. Just sheer stupid luck, or lack thereof, in the genetic lottery.

“Thank you”, she muttered, despite all that. There was something that unsettled her in the smile Harry shot her at her demure answer.

“Well, who’s that hot piece, Harry, and why the hell is she talking to _you_ of all people?”, Blaise’s voice suddenly erupted from the deep silence that had settled over them, booming through the foyer. Before she could slip around, and retort in any way, she felt an arm slip around her waist and pull her close in such a specifically raw and downright sexual way, she could only describe it as _Blaise._ He breathed teasingly into her neck and when she squirmed away, because he was tickling her, he simply tipped her forward in a very tango way. She didn’t even try to get out of his grip, as she would have probably fallen straight on her arse.

“Incredibly subtle as always, Blaise”, Hermione chuckled, not shying away form meeting the gaze from his chocolate eyes straight on.

“How was your policy on sharing my bed again?”, Blaise wondered, as he easily pulled her up in a standing position again, making sure that she had a secure stance, before he let go of her.

“Not gonna happen, Blaise”, Hermione grinned, observing out of the corner of her eye that Draco and Anthony were coming to join them.

“Not gonna happen anytime soon?”, Blaise suggested an amendment, which she couldn’t react to, because Draco walked right past them to the car and everybody else followed.

The mindless banter from before was forgotten immediately, as Draco’s foul mood seeped out from every pore and Blaise went back to the oddly serious role, he had taken on in the last two months. Once settled in the car, they had already slipped into their usual behaviour, but it still made Hermione feel unsettled. This didn’t seem like the kind of dynamic the heirs would show in public. She mulled over this during the drive to the Greengrasses’ estate. By the time, they had arrived, she had managed to think herself into a frenzy and it didn’t help that Greengrass House was just as ludicrous as she had imagined. A few cars where parked in the driveway and people strolling along on the first floor were visible through floor-length windows. The Greengrass family crest, Hermione noted, as she got out of the car and entered the house, was basically everywhere, including the employees’ uniforms, the marble tile that floored the entrance and any other place that could comfortably display it. What was it with nobility and their need to show their claim on any available surface? It wasn’t as if people didn’t already know that their lineage could be traced back to the middle ages. Somehow, that made Hermione, who could trace her lineage back exactly two generations, feel a little inadequate. More inadequate than she already felt as a base-line, that was.

However, she swallowed all of that down quite resolutely, deciding that this was not exactly a great place to show insecurities. Because, as much as she liked to call Hogwarts a snake pit and a lion den, or a pool of sharks, it was kids’ play in comparison to the adult version of it. She was just about to enter the main room, where the auction was going to be held, when she felt a hand clasping her wrist. She whipped around, her eyes burning with fury, and met Draco’s gaze head on.

“What?!”, she snapped, noting immediately that Draco seemed even more off than he had in the last few weeks. God, she was tired of his mood at this point. What the hell had got his panties in such a twist anyway?

“Harry”, he started out, his voice low and uncertain. It made her uncertain as well, having the brat be less than a hundred percent confident.

“I know what I’m doing, Draco”, she groaned and tried to get her wrist out of his iron grip, though only half-heartedly, “I’ll keep the fangirls away”.

He just shook his head slowly, dragging the hand that wasn’t clutching her over his refined features.

“It’s not going to be enough”, he sighed, looking at her intensely, as if he was trying to say something else with those words that she just couldn’t decipher for the life of her.

“He’s spent half a year in this world, already. He’s getting better”, she tried to reason with the brat, because it was the truth. Harry had got much better at navigating people. Since Cho, there had been no big scandals, but mostly small missteps that could happen to any of them. To be perfectly honest, Harry moved around the social circles much more smoothly than Hermione had ever anticipated, but he chose not to and rather stick to her side. For whatever reason.

“I don’t get, where this is suddenly coming from”, she finally muttered, staring at Draco and wishing that she could read him just a bit better. But by the time she had said that, Draco was, quite suddenly, finally back to being the fully confident, annoying brat she was used to.

“You mustn’t leave his side”, he declared, as he finally let go of her wrist and strut into the main room.

Hermione, still a bit confused and, frankly, a bit whiplashed from this exchange, walked towards Harry and accepted the arm he was offering her. He seemed blissfully unaware of the conversation she’d just lead concerning him and perfectly happy having her at his arm. God, she wished she could trade places with him right now. Trying to keep rumours at bay, because Harry insisted on wearing the silliest, most blissed out grin she could imagine, Hermione tugged at his arm and snuck them into the room, when the Greengrasses made their appearance from a different entrance. She joined in with the polite round of applause that Acantha Greengrass’ opening words were met with. There was a general explanation of how the auction would work and of course an ode to the nobility of the assembled crowd. The first half hour of the evening, she spent walking between the displays discussing which one would be smartest to bid on with Harry. Not that Harry had strong opinions on it. Apparently, Sirius had tasked him with biding on a specific thing, because he himself couldn’t make it.

As the evening progressed, however, Hermione started to take note of the whispers around them. There was of course the general noise, which was about the upcoming betrothal between Draco and Astoria, but more and more comments she caught were about her and wondering, who the Potter boy was staring at so adoringly. And just as the realisation of just why the brat had been so certain that Harry would mess up hit her, when the blackhead smiled at her particularly fondly, all the attention was turned from them, when a shriek disturbed the occasion. Completely forgetting about Harry, she ran towards the scream, afraid that somebody might have been hurt and she was the closest to qualified medical personal that was on hand. Once she had, quite rudely pushed through the commotion though, she found that nobody had been hurt. At least not physically.

Standing there in the drawing room was a barely dressed Astoria Greengrass and her sister, Daphne, who looked so furious that Hermione could only assume that it was her, who had screamed. And between them, with his hair ruffled and his suit rumpled from easily deduced activities, stood Draco Malfoy, his face calm and collected as ever, even though Daphne was crumbling to pieces next to him.

“You are _such_ a prick, Draco Malfoy”, she screeched, looking as if she would go and claw out his eyes at any second. He didn’t speak up in his defence at all and he just continued ignoring the two sisters, as they started insulting each other, all of their good upbringing and manners apparently forgotten. As their fight escalated, more and more people came over, until, out of nowhere, Ernie appeared and dragged Astoria away from her older sibling, while the latter slowly seemed to remember, where she was, and that people were able to hear the commotion. Hermione watched in the sort of morbid fascination one connected with trains derailing, as she was quietly escorted by a family employee. She also noted that, despite the trend from before, nobody even mentioned Harry.

It was only, when she turned around that Hermione realised none of the other people had actually come out of the main room. Not that it had been necessary. The girls had both screamed loud enough for the sound to carry back all the way to Hogwarts. She was alone in her nook, alone in observing Draco, as his shoulders tensed up for no more than a second, before he fell back into his effortlessly perfect posture. He picked out his phone and a second later, as if he had expected it, it started to ring.

“Yes, mother”, he answered the phone, turning around on his heel to leave the drawing room, and as Hermione realised the house as well. For good probably.


	18. Tell Her About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three chapters in a row? this is bordering on getting regular, but, alas, it is just part of my nefarious plan to lure you into a false sense of security

After granting herself a moment to mull over what had just happened, Hermione went back to the main room of the auction hardly surprised when Harry found his way to her. The whole room was buzzing with the new information of what had gone down with the Greengrasses and maybe that was why Harry didn’t ask her what had happened. Or maybe it was just because he was one of Draco’s best friends and expected to hear about it sooner or later anyway. Either way, the night passed by excruciatingly slowly. Sure, the first half hour had been fun; staring at donations from private collections and rare prototypes was entertaining. But they lost their appeal quite quickly, when she noticed how little attention the guests actually paid to them. Blind bids where liberally given of course, but all the attention was still with the evening’s scandal.

At some point, thankfully, Harry discovered that there was an open bar and got them both drinks. Somehow, Hermione was starting to understand why Hogwarts students generally had an alcohol problem from the age of thirteen on. How could you stand this otherwise? After a drink or two, she decided to leave Harry’s side for a bit and instead sought out the other heirs. Draco, of course, was long gone, as she knew. Heaven only knew, where he had gone off to. Anthony was having a conversation with a few people of different ages, a drink in hand. Blaise was off dancing with some girl Hermione had never seen in her life and that she was quite sure she would never see again afterwards. Except, if she was _really_ good or plain amusing, which would make her last a maximum of two weeks, before she would fall back into oblivion. Ernie, she watched escort a perfectly put together and calm looking Daphne Greengrass back into the room. Seeing as she had no intention of getting anywhere near Daphne, who was currently unwillingly in the spotlight, bud in on whatever discussion Anthony was having or turn Blaise’s flirt into an accidental threesome, she had no choice other than going back to Harry’s side.

Knowing that he would end up worried if he couldn’t find her, she touched his shoulder and declared, “I need to catch a breath outside”.

“Sure, let’s go”, Harry replied with a grin. Of course, he hadn’t caught onto the subtext of what exactly she needed a break of. Or who exactly. And so, because she couldn’t very well tell him outright that she didn’t want him to come along, she let Harry lead her out onto a gigantic balcony that went along most of the backside of Greengrass house, facing the extensive gardens there. It wasn’t even necessary Harry that annoyed her, but rather spending too much time with any given person. It was just part of her personality as a dedicated introvert that made her loathe to spend extensive periods of time with anybody except for her father maybe. The balcony, at least, was empty except for her and Harry, who was mercifully quiet for a few moments.

Hermione took those moments to deeply inhale the night air, which was a welcome change to the stuffiness of the main room inside. For as large as that might have been, after a few hours of sharing it with a significant number of people and the heating in full power due to the still frigid Scottish winter air, the room had become downright suffocating. The quiet, however, gave her space to think and that inevitably meant thinking about what she had just witnessed Draco do. Every fibre of her being wanted to find an explanation other than the one she had come up with, which was an extremely uncharacteristic form of self sacrifice. Because, if that really was what he had done, then she had misread the brat for months, years really, and she was not willing to admit that kind of defeat.

She was distracted from her train of thought, when she noticed from the corner of her eye that Harry was taking off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. It reminded her of the last time he had done that and how that had escalated to a solid month of rumours about their relationship, but it would hardly lead to anything remotely as bad again. After all, they were established as good friends and Harry was known to have the classic Griffin hero’s complex anyway, so shedding his clothing for her was hardly notable. Always there for a damsel in distress, she thought and surprised herself with the amount of cynicism that thought was drenched in. Sure, she had always been annoyed with that particular brand of anti-feminist thinking, but it had never been that extreme. Apparently, she was spending too much time with the brat, as he seemed to brush off on her.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”, Harry inquired after a while, disrupting the silence he had granted her.

It was an oddly generic question, even for Harry, who wasn’t the best at making conversation.

She turned around to face him, noting that he was exceptionally fidgety, and was about to ask him what was going on, when he rambled on, “Because if you’re not, that would be my fault, I guess, because I’m the one who sort of dragged you along right?”

“Would you just calm down, Harry”, she laughed, uncomfortably, because this was the first time he had shown any sort of awareness of what she might be doing for him. Not that he was usually ungrateful for their friendship, but this was the first time he made any claims at realising the sort of position she had put herself in. His babysitter, or guardian, or whatever you wanted to call it. Not that she had spent a lot of time having to do that recently. Really, she had tried to distance herself from him, to no avail.

Noting that he was still nowhere close to relaxing, she added, what she considered to be a non-committal, yet positive answer, “It had been a pleasant and eventful evening, so far”. Eventful it had been indeed.

“Good”, Harry grinned, his smile a bit less uncertain now, as he took a step closer to her, “Cause I really want you to be happy”.

She couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her features at Harry’s genuine concern. She could say a lot against each of the heirs, but they looked out for each other and, somehow, in accepting this place in their circle, she had come to enjoy this sort of protection as well. Could she really say a lot against the heirs though? Anthony, for example, could only be said to be aloof and really, how would he not be just that, growing up as he had. Once you got past that he was intelligent and caring. And Blaise, of course was overwhelmingly charming and aware of that in the beginning, but he was also like a ray of sunshine on any given day. Ernie, it occurred to her, she had never really had anything against, as he was hardly around. The most she could fault him with, was being sort of mysterious, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. Draco really, was the only one she still considered truly arrogant. And, with Harry of course, she had never had a doubt about his character. He was still like a Labrador puppy in the shape of a human to her.

All of those thought went through her head rapidly, while she turned to face Harry to answer him in some way. Looking at him, she noted that he stood impossibly close to her and in the split second she admitted to herself that she had assumed correctly before this evening had gone bat-shit crazy, the young man she had just compared to a dog, leaned into her and firmly planted his lips on hers. Hermione, at that, was so shocked that she momentarily forgot how to move, paralysed by the whole ridiculousness of the moment. The first coherent thought she could form was related to the brat of all people. He’d known. Of course he had and she had too, if she were perfectly honest. Luckily, after a few moments of kissing her, Harry leaned back, his hands holding her softly, as if to stabilize her.

“A-are you ok?”, he asked after a moment with those sweet puppy eyes, his voice filled with a tentative sort of hopefulness that shattered her heart into a million pieces.

“No, Harry”, she sighed, stepping away from him, even is she made sure to meet his eyes.

No matter, how much she hated doing this, she needed to make sure he understood.

“I’m not ok with this at all”, she supplied, watching a blush rise to his cheeks in the dim peripheral lighting and his green eyes fill with the realisation, “This is not even close to how I want our relationship to progress”.

“It was just a spur of the moment thing”, he protested meakly, but she knew just as well as him that at least the feelings that had lead to _the spur of the moment_ weren’t that. He had stuck to her side more and more closely, even when she had tried to gently push him away.

“You’re like a little brother to me, Harry”, she groaned, trying to keep her voice soft, because she wasn’t angry with him at all, “I don’t know how I gave you the impression that I was interested in anything but a platonic relationship with you”.

“Yeah, I got that”, Harry awkwardly huffed, ruffling through his hair at the same time. It killed her how pained he looked, but what was she supposed to do. Surely leading him on in any way wasn’t in either of their interests.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, still looking excessively awkward. God, she hoped that this hadn’t somehow permanently damaged their relationship. She was quite fond of him as her friend.

Her only answer was a slow nod with a smile that hopefully said, “It’s fine, but please also never do this again”.

“Guess I’ll head back inside then”, he sighed, “Find myself a drink and...”

His voice trailed off, as he turned his back on her and slid into the room again. Hermione just groaned deeply, and leaned on the rail of the balcony, looking at the stars as if they were going to give her some solution to her deeply profane, mortal problems. It felt like just a few minutes later, when a butler came outside and informed her that the car that had brought her hear would be leaving soon. As she got into the limousine, she realised that Blaise, Harry, Anthony and Ernie were nowhere to be seen. But to her honest surprise, Draco was there, sitting in the car, and knocked against the darkened window separating them from the driver, signalling that they were ready to leave.


	19. Say Say Say

The drive to Hogwarts was predictably quiet with Draco slumped into one corner of the car and Hermione pouting in the other. Not that the heir to the Malfoy empire was actually slouching, but it seemed that if he were a normal person, he might have. Also, Hermione wasn’t really pouting as she was trying to school her features into not showing too much.

Maybe her face still screamed, “Jesus Christ, Harry kissed me and you knew _exactly_ that this was gonna happen”. How was she supposed to know? Either way, the hour long drive back to Hogwarts passed quickly with both of them so caught up in their own thoughts. Before Hermione knew it, they were passing the imposing gates to the Academy, which was in no way permitted, but she didn’t have the energy to protest against it. So what if Draco Malfoy’s limousine went onto the grounds, she just wanted to go to bed and mope some more.

That wonderful plan was however disrupted, when, upon arriving, Draco immediately rushed out of the car and stalked into the woods, obviously overwhelmed from the events of the evening. She stared after him, together with the driver, who made to go after him. That wasn’t going to end well. To be fair, Hermione had hardly ever seen Draco show any emotion other than mild contempt and amusement, but she was just going to guess that he would not react all that well to one of his family’s employees seeing in on him.

With another sigh, Hermione put her hand on the driver’s shoulder to stop him and declared, “I’ll look into it”. The man, who had driven them several times before and whose name she still didn’t know, nodded, bowed his head at her and then got into the car, driving off into the night again.

Hermione, in the meantime, took the woods after Draco, not entirely sure, what she was going to do. She just had a feeling that the brat would try to decompress in some very stupid way like trying to fight a wolf or punching a tree and although nobody would be able to blame her for that happening, she didn’t think the other heirs or the Malfoy family would appreciate her just idly standing by. Also, as a head girl, she had to acknowledge that technically, Draco wasn’t allowed in the woods, as they were off limits to the student body, and she therefore had to go after him anyway. To be perfectly honest, she was the person at Hogwarts that could get the most emotion out of him on the average day, so she considered herself moderately qualified to...well, to what really? To comfort him? That sounded quite unlikely. She supposed she could try to talk him down from whatever he was going through.

She slowed down, at the edge of a small clearing, where the brat was standing, trying her best to stay a good distance away. There, light very moodily by the half moon, stood Draco, clenching and unclenching his fists, his breathing heavy and laboured, as if he were trying to keep it together at all costs. For all intents and purposes, he didn’t look or act unhinged, but knowing him and knowing how uptight and controlled and subtle he tended to be in his emotions, he was as close to breakdown as she thought she was ever going to see him. She made a conscious decision not to engage him in a conversation, although his body language showed her quiet clearly that he had noticed her joining him.

“Any reason why you followed me?”, was the first thing he said after a long while, at least a quarter of an hour, of them just standing in the middle of the eerily silent clearing.

“Well, I thought I should protect the wild life from the broadside of your fury”, she provided, purposefully engaging in their usual bickering.

“I am _not_ angry”, he sighed, not meeting her eyes.

Hermione huffed in disbelief, but let it go, in favour of some advice, “You should try screaming”.

God knows that little piece of wisdom had helped her keep it together in numerous situation, a concerning amount of which involved Draco in some shape or form.

When the brat didn’t react, she added, “It’s cathartic”. At that he finally looked up and stepped closer to her, so that she could see just how unimpressed he was by that piece of advice.

His expression was back to a carefully guarded, blank canvas and even his body language was returning to normal as he answered, “I would have thought you to have figured out that I am not the type to be longing for catharsis”.

“Never to late to pick up a healthy habit”, Hermione mused, shrugging her shoulders at his dismissal.

“Oh, right”, Draco sassed, his eyebrow raised as delicately as ever, “That wonderful habit of stuffing one’s own excess emotion down somebody else’s throat. Very healthy indeed”.

After a few more moments of regarding her, he declared, “Well, if that’s all the wisdom you have to provide..?” He raised his voice at the end to make it sound like a question, which she didn’t react to, and then made a gesture behind him to the castle.

Hermione just nodded and once again started stalking after him, now becoming much more aware of how freezing she was, because she was nowhere close to appropriately dressed for a stroll in the woods. She also wasn’t exactly wearing hiking boots that were made for the loosened up ground she was walking over. And then, when she had barely finished that thought, she found herself getting stuck with her stiletto heel and falling to the ground. And because, unfortunately, life wasn’t a k-drama, nobody heroically came to her rescue to catch her, which meant that Hermione landed hardly gracefully on her arse. Once the first rush of shock and adrenaline had gone through her system, the first thing she felt was a sharp pain in her ankle that brought tears to her eyes. The logical part of her brain told her that at least she hadn’t paralyzed herself with a stiletto, but the less logical part was full on going into shock at the sharp pain that overcame her in waves.

She barely noticed somebody helping her up through the nauseous haze that inhabited her field of vision, but, as soon as she tried to put a minimal amount of weight on her ankle, she let out a string of profanities that would have made even Blaise blush, which was a much more difficult task to achieve than making a pirate _or_ a whore do as such.

“I’ll make a bold guess and say that you have twisted your ankle”, the brat sighed.

Surprisingly, that unnecessary comment helped her not go into complete shock, as she managed to be angry enough at it to focus in on Draco and hiss, through gritted teeth, “You think?” Draco, of course, seemed unfazed, or maybe mildly inconvenienced. He kept an arm around her waist to keep her from falling over, then with the other put one of her arms around his shoulder, before changing his grip and picking her up easily, bridal style.

“You want to help me?”, she muttered, her mind getting clearer as the pain went from screaming to more constantly excruciating.

“Well”, he groaned, “This is not really about me wanting to do anything, except not having the responsibility of leaving you to freeze to death on the Hogwarts grounds on my mind”.

She nodded, slowly, feeling herself drift away again, with the comfortable warmth of Draco’s body heating her up.

The brat, however, would have none of it, and instead asked, “So, remind me of why exactly you thought following me into a forest on stilettos would be a good idea”.

“Well, as you remarked before”, she retorted, exhausted by the whole conversation, “It’s bloody freezing out here”.

“Oh, yes”, he chuckled, “I forgot about the amount of protection a stiletto sandal provides from the cold”.

“Seeing as actual hot blood courses through my veins, the soles at least helped some”, she sassed back, “Although you wouldn’t understand, what with the ice that flows through your body”. The bite of that statement was sort of lost though, when she shivered violently and the brat, pulled her closer to his body, proving that the blood coursing through his veins was very much hot. At that they had finally entered the castle and she noted quite quickly that Draco had bypassed the staircase leading to the Griffin tower and the infirmary.

“Where exactly are you taking me?”, she inquired, her brain still catching up rather slowly.

“To my room to check out your ankle”, he answered, as he started heading down the staircase that lead to his common room. As much as he tried to hold her tight while getting there, every step still made her bounce and therefore made stung in her ankle. It made her immediately grateful that he had decided not to take her up the multiple staircases to either her room or the nurse.

Draco went right through the common room and to his communal bathroom, where he carefully sat her down on a counter, making sure that her ankle didn’t drop down or get hurt any further in any other way. She was quite grateful that he didn’t cause her any physical pain on purpose, although she supposed he wasn’t the type for that. More of an emotional pain kind of guy. Once she was sat there, she expected him to rush off to get the nurse, Madame Pomfrey, or maybe find somebody else to go do just that so he could continue to keep her awake, although the acute state of shock had passed. What she didn’t expect was for him to wash his hands and then start expecting her ankle himself. Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly the kind of person she expected to have medical knowledge, as he didn’t seem like he would watch medical dramas in his spare time. But maybe she had him all wrong and he used every spare minute to watch reruns of House and catch up on Grey’s anatomy. Who really knew?

As she glanced at him, something that she could only describe as verbal vomit came out of her mouth as she hissed, “If you look up my dress, I’ll strangle you”.

“Oh, how _will_ I resist the temptation”, Draco muttered, while taking off her shoe delicately and putting it aside, her foot resting in his hand all the while.

“And also I would like to see you try”, he added, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he adjusted his grip. Hermione jerked her foot away at the sudden tickling sensation, although she immediately winced with pain.

The brat looked at her in disbelief and just said, “Are you _trying_ to injure yourself further?”

The chastising tone in his voice made her want to do something childish like sticking her tongue out at him, but instead she blushed slightly and muttered, “I’m ticklish”.

After a while of him turning her ankle every which way and asking if something hurt about twenty times, he sat her ankle down again and declared, “I think you might have torn a ligament. You definitely need to see the nurse tomorrow”.

“Obviously”, Hermione muttered channelling her best approximation of her chemistry professor.

Draco, in the meantime, had begun to rummage through his cabinet, taking put a bottle of pills and then went to a different cupboard, that she realised wasn’t a cupboard at all, but actually a freezer, as he pulled out an icepack. Once he had gathered all the supplies, Draco began to wrap her ankle diligently, starting out with a bandage to stabilise it, then adding the icepack around it and fixing it with another bandage.

He also held out the bottle to her, showing her the label of painkillers and asked, “Are you allergic to them?”

“No”, Hermione muttered, already unscrewing the bottle to get some out, “Dosage?”

The brat looked up from the work he had done on her injury and mused, “I’d say you’ll want to take one for now. They’re quite strong” – he paused to hand her a water bottle before stating – “And I’ll leave the bottle next to the bed, in case you can’t sleep”.

“Sounds reasonable”, Hermione sighed, as she gulped down the pill thankful that the painkiller had been invented many years ago.

“Today was a shit day”, she declared, as Draco came around the front of the counter, putting one arm under her knees, while she already wrapped her arm around his shoulder, so he could pick her up.

“Tell me about it”, he laughed humourlessly, which was more of a reaction than she had expected.

“Harry kissed me”, she whispered, twisting around so she could see Draco’s reaction even as he carried her to what she assumed was his bedroom. As she had expected, Draco seemed hardly surprised by that.

“I thought he would”, the brat agreed, nodding sagely.

He sat her down on the bed still incredibly careful and she couldn’t help but state, “You know, you didn’t have to self sacrifice like that. He would have been fine, somehow. People always whisper anyway”.

“I’m much better equipped to deal with this than him”, Draco protested, putting a t-shirt and a pair of shorts next to her, so she could change. She huffed, even as she slipped into the shorts and changed into the shirt, while Draco had his back respectfully turned to her.

As promised, he set the bottle of pills and a glass of water on the bedside table, so she could take it, if he needed to. Then he quickly went into the bathroom and came back out changed into his pyjamas before taking what looked like a Japanese style futon from a cupboard and laying it out on the floor to make his own bed. Without any further comment, he turned off the light, which was followed by the ruffling of fabric as he lied down on the futon and she made herself comfortable in the unfamiliar and yet weirdly familiar bed. Not even Draco Malfoy had the right to replace the furniture in an Academy bedroom, she supposed.

While she waited for the painkillers to finally set in and drift her to sleep, she turned around so she faced the side of the bed, where the brat was laying on the floor and muttered, “I don’t get why you play the big protector to him”. A rustle encouraged her to continue as it seemed that Draco hadn’t fallen asleep yet either.

“You’re not like that with your other friends”, she stated matter-of-factly.

“He’s family”, was Draco’s response and it made him sound like a lot of things, but certainly not the king of all brats that she was used to. And at the finality of that statement, for the first time in her life, she felt a little trickle of fondness for this arrogant mess of a person she had somehow found in her life.


	20. Coming Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back bitches and butches

It seemed to be only seconds later that she woke up to somebody gently shaking her awake.

“Good morning, Mia”, Blaise greeted her with a smile that seemed like he was trying to imitate the rising sun. The only answer she could muster was a deep groan, though she sat up once she noticed the now dulled but still very real pain in her ankle that definitely told her that she needed to see a medical professional.

“Where’s Draco?”, she wondered, with a glance to the space next to the bed that was now void of any futon.

Blaise, who had gone through Draco’s closet, handed her a plain Hogwarts jumper, before he answered, “He’s in a meeting” – then he added, with a big grin – “Therefore I will be your royal mule”. Hermione chuckled at that, slipped on the jumper and pushed back the sheets so her ride could pick her up. Much like the brat the evening before, he picked her up bridal style, though with even more ease than him. Maybe they had some special rich people exercise plan that required them to help a damsel in distress at any point. She wouldn’t put it past etiquette.

“Shouldn’t I be on your back, if you’re my royal mule?”, she wondered, as Blaise left the room and swiftly crossed the common room.

With another grin at her he stated, “Oh, princess, I can ride me properly any other day”. Hermione couldn’t help but chortle at that, but then fell as silent as the halls were again.

As it turned out, it wasn’t because of the pain killers that she felt like she’d only slept for a few hours, but because she had _only slept for a few hours._ The dead silence as Blaise carried her through the empty corridors to the nurse’s office was more than enough to proof that it was still the early hours of the morning, even without the grey pale morning light shining in through the windows. It was probably for the best as Hermione wasn’t sure she wanted anybody to witness the situation she was currently in. Even she, as a loud voice against gossip, would have been tempted to ask questions if she saw somebody being carried from Draco Malfoy’s bedroom to the nurse’s office by Blaise Zabini. But as it were, they arrived at Poppy Pomfrey’s office’s doorstep without having been met by a single soul, except for the surely countless souls that haunted the ancient castle.

Hermione knocked on the door and almost immediately, the nurse met them.

Without them even starting to explain anything, Poppy jumped into action. “Well, don’t stare at me blankly, Mister Zabini, unless your eyes have unknown healing properties”, she fussed within a second, ushering them in with the energy of a mildly distressed bumblebee, “Sit her down on the bed”.

Blaise did so without any further encouragement, but then stayed firmly at Hermione’s side, sitting in the seat next to the bed. Poppy, in the meantime, went to undo Draco’s handiwork and examine the injured ankle.

“How exactly did this happen?”, the nurse asked briskly, but not unkindly.

Before Hermione could come up with some explanation that didn’t severely incriminate or worse mortify her, Blaise took over by saying, “You see, Mia finally decided to let out some sexual frustrations and things got” – at that he paused delicately – “Out of hand”. Hermione whipped around to stare at Blaise in disbelief. He didn’t even try to hide his grin or obvious amusement, but just looked at her as if asking her to come up with a better story.

All Hermione could do was stare at him incredulously, while Poppy harrumphed and addressed Blaise by saying, “And you know of this, because you were involved, Mr. Zabini?”

“Aren’t I always?”, he gave back, delicately avoiding answering the question. Madame Pomfrey huffed, then turned back to Hermione, while at the same time rebandaging her ankle.

“You’re lucky you didn’t rip your tendons, Miss Granger”, the nurse chastised, “You damaged them severely though, so not you’re not to take off this splint for the next six weeks” – she paused, and then with an awkward glance at Blaise she added – “And I’d recommend being more…careful…in you activities”. After that, she handed Hermione a bottle of prescription pain killers and complimented both of them out of the nurse’s office.

“I’m going to murder you, Blaise”, Hermione whispered as soon as they were out of the room, “Literally, I am going to find a way to slowly and painfully end your life”.

Blaise at that giggled like a little girl and held his hands up innocently stating, “You would have been welcome to come up with another explanation for your injury. The truth for example”. Hermione huffed in annoyance, but after a few moments she couldn’t help but join Blaise in giggling about the ridiculousness of the situation. They walked from the nurse’s office to the headmaster’s office, where she had to attend a meeting, at a positively sluggish pace due to her newly injured ankle.

After a few moments of them walking in silence, Hermione couldn’t help but break the unusual quiet between them by asking, “Who is Draco in a meeting with?”

“That wouldn’t be concern I detect in your voice, Miss Granger”, Blaise teased, but once again with the usual ease and flow missing.

“I’d be less concerned if you were acting normally, Mr. Zabini”, she answered, her voice even and demanding. Blaise, however, chose not to answer at first.

After another staircase though, he shrugged, rolled his eyes and declared, “He’s meeting with the devil”.

“How poetic”, she rolled her eyes. As far as she knew any of the Malfoys’ business partners could very easily be seen as the devil by anybody with a moderately functioning moral compass. Or whatever entity possessed Malfoy’s mere human body might also be the devil. To hell if she knew.

“Some, of course”, Blaise continued unexpectedly, while Hermione was drowning herself in cynicism, “Might be foolish enough to call the literal spawn of hell Draco is consulting right now his mother, Narcissa Malfoy”. At this finally, Blaise seemed back to his usual self, although he also seemed highly uncomfortable at the mere mention of Mrs. Malfoy. He must have had some bad experiences with her. Hermione, of course, hadn’t had many interactions with the afore mentioned woman, except for the school council meetings, where she had dealt with the head of the board of governors.

“Why is it that any powerful and beautiful woman must be working in tandem with the lightbringer, according to men?”, Hermione groaned.

Blaise laughed, “Oh, Mia, you have obviously never personally been introduced to Narcissa Malfoy Black”.

At that point they had reached the headmaster’s office and he continued, “I respect powerful women as much as the next guy. Quite possibly a considerable lot more. But Narcissa is a goddess walking amongst men in the most terrifying and fallen way possible”.

He grinned at her some more and then added, “I’ll be in touch about that ride we were talking about”.

“In your dreams, Blaise”, she laughed.

“Most certainly”, he grinned, then turned around and walked through the next walkway presumably back to the Slytherin dorms.

Hermione on the other hand, went to knock on the headmaster’s door, but found that it was already opened for her and therefore entered the familiar room. She was nearly knocked over, when she came in, by the mess of limbs that was Dumbledore’s canaan dog.

“Well, nice to see you’re as capable of knocking me off my feet as ever, Fawkes”, Hermione chuckled, while already leaning down to pet the dog she knew quite well by then. He sniffed at her hands and at the disturbing lack of treats in them, started to whine quite loudly, thereby also announcing her presence to his master.

“Miss Granger, do come upstairs”, Dumbledore’s voice called her. It took her a while to get up the spiral staircase, but eventually she did manage it, Fawkes at her heels.

“How lovely of you to join us”, the headmaster’s greeted her, his voice kind and his eyes sparkling with intrigue as always. For a second she assumed that _us_ meant Dumbledore and Fawkes, but as Hermione’s eyes moved from the tall figure that was their head of school, they fell onto another person facing him. Sitting in front of Dumbledore and slowly turning to face her, still in shorts and an oversized Hogwarts jumper, was Narcissa Malfoy.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this is a filler, which is why I avoided writing it for so long. But hey, feel free to assume that, as the English like to say, shit is about to hit the fan, because it's Narcissa Malfoy time.

**Author's Note:**

> We've reached the end of the prewritten chapters, so this means two things:  
> 1\. If you have any tropes that you feel need to be included, do tell (whatwouldvoldydo on tumblr)  
> 2\. I'll reduce to updates to once a week (fridays)


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